Memory Eaters
by tykimikkity
Summary: It started off as a normal World Meeting. Then Japan begins acting like its World War II again, and Spain begins acting like they're back in the conquistador days. Other countries begin to experience similar symptoms. What does this have to do with the golden butterflies that seemingly only England, Norway, and Romania can see?
1. Gold Splatter

**I. Memory of a Gold Splatter**

* * *

_[Stories like these usually start out with a long-winded introduction or — more accurately worded — a prologue or even a full-on monologue offering the reader a snippet of what is to come or what came before. I won't start this story off like that. Instead, I will give you an explanation — a reason — for why we did the things we did. Hopefully, this will give you some insight on (and possibly you will give us sympathies in return) the unfortunate events that unfolded these last couple of days._

_You must understand — it's simply in our nature! _

_All of those sweet and juicy memories of happiness, love, and friendship: we find them absolutely delectable! It's like trying your favorite food for the first time and discovering its unique savoriness among all the other foods you've ever tasted._

_But... there is a specific type of memory that we value above all others — a memory that is a true delicacy. And that is the memory of sorrow. _

_And they had memories that were soaked with a sorrow that we had never tasted before. It was a sorrow that could have made any grown human die of heartbreak. And it was addictive. _

_It would be hypocritical to deem us as glutinous and avaricious, because, like I said, it's in our nature; it's even in human nature. _

_So, in the end, it's not our fault at all. _

_It was simply an unfortunate coincidence that we ended up devouring history itself. _

_"Oh my... What a despicable lie."_

_History is a touchy thing...]_

* * *

It was June 1st. It definitely was June 1st, 20XX. And the time was 10:55.

Why was he confirming the date and time for?

Oh, it was because the World Meeting was today and was supposed to start in fifteen minutes. It certainly had to be that. There really was no other explanation for it. Maybe that was why he was feeling so uneasy as well.

England glanced up from his wristwatch and at the large building that loomed over him. It was an antique-looking building but antique in a pleasant sort of way. Delicate arches swung around the surface of the building, lacing across gilded statues and ornately cut bushes. There was detail in every crack and corner.

"It's a bit too showy for me..." England grumbled to himself, as he shifted his suitcase from his left hand to his right.

"England-san?" Came a tentative voice. Deep. Mellow.

"Oh, Japan," England inclined his head as the said man approached him from the side, "you're a bit early."

"Ah, yes..." Japan lowered his gaze after giving a slight nod. "I worried that I would be late, so I ended up getting ready half-an-hour earlier than usual."

It was just like Japan to worry about things like that.

"... It is good to see you, England-san. Good morning."

"It's good to see you too, old chap." England returned with a smile. He turned towards the building again, gesturing. "Shall we then, Japan?"

"We might as well."

—you tomato bastard!"

The sudden accusation made England pause. Now, that did not sound like Japan at all. And sure enough, the Japanese man was wearing an expression resembling England's own: surprise — if it could even be called that. The Asian nation was incredibly skilled at keeping his poker face in place.

The two turned their heads backwards. Just around the corner walked a group of four. And to England, three of these four were absolutely unappealing.

"Ugh..." England blanched. "Let's hurry and go in; maybe we can avoid them."

But Japan evidently thought otherwise and remained stationary, much to England's chagrin. It was already too late anyways: the group was already literally a foot away.

"Good morning," Japan greeted the four politely, "Spain-san, Netherlands-san, Belgium-san, Romano-kun."

"Hola, Japan!...and England."

Netherlands simply grunted in greeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Japan and Mr. England." Belgium replied with a curt yet amicable nod.

"Hey, Japan." Romano muttered in acknowledgement. His honey-colored gaze then fell on England. "...tea bastard."

England's eyebrow twitched. Why were they so friendly to each other, but so blatantly rude to him? Not that he cared or anything. They could be friends if they wanted to be. And he could be left out of the circle. It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. His eyebrow twitched again.

"Are you going to open the door or what?" Romano sneered, waving the Brit towards the building's wooden doors.

"Now, Romano," Spain chided from beside him with his signature smile in place, "that wasn't very nice of you."

"No, no," England spoke through gritted teeth, "it's quite alright." He turned, reaching for the door handle, and added in a quiet whisper: "I'll just curse you with the darkest of black magics later..."

...Strange. Wouldn't he usually be exploding with anger at this point? Shrugging it off, he twisted the handle and pulled the door open. And a butterfly flew out from the darkness. A multitude of them actually.

Their bright wings were dappled with gold and orange, the same colors as the sparkling dust that fell from their bodies. With all of the brightness and sparkles, England mistook them as fairies for a moment. They did have a strange and supernatural quality to them.

England watched as they fluttered over his shoulder and towards the group behind him. The group eyed him oddly in turn. Did they not see the butterflies that were surrounding them?

"England-san?" Japan spoke after a long pause of silence. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, well," England gestured towards his head, "it's just you and Spain have these really weird-looking butterflies dancing all of your heads."

"Butterflies?" Spain repeated as he craned his neck. He evidently did not see what England was talking about and laughed good-naturedly. "Are you sure you're not just seeing things again?"

"Of course I'm not bloody seeing things!" England shouted back, becoming irritable. He shook his head and mumbled to himself, before turning towards the door that stood ajar. "Just, forget about it."

They walked in.

* * *

It was now 11:10.

The meaning of 'normalcy'. England didn't quite know it, but he was positive that the scene unfolding before him did not lie in its definition. No, the correct meaning of it was pure and utter 'idiocy'. It was a term that had applied to all past World Meetings, including the one he was currently attending.

As always, half of the countries required to attend the meeting didn't show up at all. But that was only natural. Hundreds of countries could not just abide to a singular person's schedule. Putting that aside, even with less than half of the attendees present, the meeting room was in chaos.

Papers rained down like a snowstorm. Pens and other devices were being flung across the room like darts. Several countries were engaging in brawl, while others were repeatedly slamming their heads into the wall. England himself was part of the former group, having casually engaged himself with choking France.

It was the usual occurrence. So, all in all, perhaps it did fit 'normalcy' in the end. But then something 'strange' happened: the room became pitch black.

"Dudeeee, who turned out the lights?"

That was America.

"Aiya! Is this some stupid western prank?"

And China.

"Mein gott. This day could not have turned out any worse."

And Germany.

"Germany, Germany, help me!"

Definitely Italy.

Several other voices joined the cacophony, most notably some Greek and Turkish shouts. If one listened closely, they were sure to hear some Romanian and Hungarian yips here and there as well.

England groped around in the darkness, feeling along the cold table beside him with hesitant fingers. Suddenly he could see the shadowy silhouette of his fingers which was strange because his eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness. No, the said shadows were being cast by a warm and golden light that taunted him from the corner of his eye.

He looked up quickly and saw that the butterflies he had seen earlier were the source of the luminance. He squinted at them, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as he saw that most of them were still fluttering around both Spain's and Japan's heads.

"They do not feel right..." Drew a deep voice from beside him.

England nearly jumped three feet in the air, barely managing to hold back a scream. Behind him crouched the Scandinavian country of Norway. Like always, the Nordic had on an unread expression, but England could tell that his attention was fixated on the butterflies.

"Y-you can see them too—they must be a magical creature of some sort then." England murmured. "Say, what do you suppose they are?"

"Not sure..."

The lights flickered back on.

And the countries found that the room was in more of a mess than before.

"Who suggested this rundown place as the base for the World Meeting again?" Austria asked calmly from his seat, organizing his papers that were strewn across the table. When no one answered, he raised an eyebrow and huffed. "Well then—-

"With a place as tacky as this," France interjected with a wave of his hand, "it's only natural to presume Angleterre is the culprit, oui?"

"What the bloody hell did you say, you frog?" England rasped. "If anything, America is most likely one who chose this place!"

"Dude, don't go pinning the blame on me!" America laughed, while shaking his head in mock disappointment. "It's kinda pathetic, right, Japan?"

The addressed did not move to answer. Instead, he was doubled over the meeting table, breathing shallow breaths. His eyes were forcibly shut closed, and he continuously rubbed the bridge of his nose. The fact that he was in pain was strewn clearly across his face.

"Ve, Japan," Italy murmured worriedly as he approached, "what's wrong?"

Realizing that he was now the center of attention, Japan quickly straightened himself up, procuring a polite smile.

"Ah, it's nothing... Just a small headache."

A blatant lie. The man looked as if he could barely stand on his own two feet. It was nonetheless concerning.

"Japan," Germany suggested, walking over to him with a serious expression, "why don't you rest in one of the guest rooms? You don't look very well."

"I do not wish to miss the meeting..."

"We'll postpone it for now—- anyways, we need to see what's going on with the power generator. We don't want another blackout, do we?"

"Kesese," came a familiar and strange laugh, "leave that to the awesome me!"

Why Prussia was even at the meeting, England didn't have the faintest idea. Perhaps the albino had somehow talked Germany into taking him. Or maybe Germany viewed it as a field trip to get Prussia out of the house.

"Hope you feel better, Japan, my man!"

England also didn't understand Prussia and Japan's closeness. The two had completely opposite personalities, yet somehow got along like brothers. It simply wasn't comprehendible.

"Oh, amigo!" Spain grinned as he walked over the Prussian. "I'll come with you—

The Spaniard paused, turning back towards Romano who sat with crossed arms and a scowl in the very corner of the room with a joking laugh:

—will Roma be okay alone?"

His answer was received via a tomato thrown at his face. That, however, did not cause a crack in his sunny disposition. He joined Prussia at the doorway, while still wearing a smile on his tomato-caked face. The mismatched two remained paused right under the doorframe as if waiting for someone. Sure enough, France, after making some dramatic yet somehow wise monologue, joined them at their sides. With that, the trio departed.

For a moment, England considered asking them if they actually knew where the generator room was but smugly pushed any considerations back in to the corner of his mind. They could get lost within the maze of the building for all he cared. Good riddance at that.

"Alright," Germany proclaimed loudly, reigning the attention in his direction, "the meeting will restart in two hours. If someone would kindly inform Spain and France of this, that would be nice. Additionally, I would like someone to escort Japan to one of the guest rooms."

Japan evidently was prepared to protest — in a polite manner of course — but a wince crossed his face and he stopped.

"I'll go, aru!" China volunteered cheerily. He quickly added in a proud voice: "he's my brother after all!"

Surprisingly, Japan allowed the older nation to guide him out of the room without a single passive-aggressive comment. Unbeknownst to the both of them, one sneaky South Korean tailed them from behind. It was evident that with the Korean present, Japan wouldn't even get a minute of the rest he needed. The poor soul.

... And then there were those butterflies.

England snuck a look at Norway. The Norwegian was in a conversing group that consisted of the other Nordic countries, the Baltic trio, and one chatty Poland. An interesting group for sure. But... It was one that England did not feel like he would enjoy joining. Perhaps he would talk about the creatures with Norway later; or maybe he would go find Romania and find out what he thought about them. Several of the gathered nations — including Romania — had left the meeting room already, however, and were probably wandering idly among the halls. Searching for Romania would be such a hassle...

"Dude, Iggy, you look totally constipated. What's the matter?"

There America stood, grinning that stupid grin of his. He had procured a hamburger from seemingly nowhere and was munching down on it, while giving England a curious expression. Or maybe it was a worried one. America's ever spontaneous nature made it hard to tell.

"I'm thinking is all," England replied, somewhat irritable, "and I told you not to call me that!"

"Chillax, Gramps. " America waved him off with a roll of his eyes. "You might break your back or something, if you're so grumpy all the time—

England would have thrown a tantrum at that comment. He would have grabbed the American by the scruff of his shirt and shaken him all about. Yes, he would have done all of those things, if he had not seen a butterfly alight on to America's head. With the sight of that, all of his anger was melted away into uneasiness. It was akin to the feeling he would get when some of his towns and cities would be flooded with rain. A terrible, sinking feeling.

—Yo, Iggy. If you're really constipated, I heard that eating hamburgers'll help."

A loud and sudden crashing sound emanated and echoed throughout the entire building, and all conversation fell into silence. The sound had resembled the familiar clash of steel against steel. It was a noise that all of the nations knew very well, and they all drew the same conclusion: there was a fight going on within the building.

England exchanged a look with America who was energetically jumping up and down. Of course, of all people, America would be the one who would react excitedly to the sudden development of possible fighting; but then again, England didn't blame him. They had been locked up in a room while talking about nothing but politics and trivial things for half an hour.

The Brit proposed allowing himself a minute to calm his nerves, but then—

"Aiyaaaa!"

* * *

It was 11:30. The fallen and cracked clock to his right told him so. And the year was 20XX — he had double-checked this morning. Therefore, in conclusion, World War II was over and done with. That was obvious.

So why did China find himself crossing swords with Japan?

* * *

**Status**

Meeting room: (18) England, America, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Poland, Canada, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Romano, Veneziano, Germany, Austria

Hallways: (10) Romania, Turkey, Greece, Hungary, Netherlands, Belgium, Russia, Belarus, Taiwan, Hong Kong

Generator Room: (3) Prussia, Spain, France

Guest Room #1: (3) China, Japan, South Korea

Total: 34 / Affected: ?

* * *

**A/N:** A fanfiction appears out of the blue! Will it ever be updated? The world may never know...


	2. Turnabout Blade

**II. Memory of a Turnabout Blade**

* * *

_[This is my first time eating such a warm thing. My tongue feels like it's been sun-kissed. It's so warm - no, it feels like it's burning. No, it **is** burning. It's painful. It's like my stomach is boiling over with lava. It's so hot that I feel like crying, but I'm sure the heat would dry my tears if I did such a thing... But the pain subsides, like someone is pulling a cool blanket over my entire body. The taste is now minty and fresh. _

_I know this kind of memory. It's a memory of pain followed by the comfort of friends. Wonderful. Simply wonderful. It's so pungent! It's so delicious that it doesn't even taste like it's from a human. _

_Oh! The flavor is changing again now. _

_Now it tastes like metal, bitter and cold. Crusted in clumps like rust. This is the taste of grotesque seeds. The seeds of war. Ah yes, this memory that rests in my mouth is that of war. _

_It's delicious. I can't help myself. I want more.]_

* * *

The old grandfather clock belonging to 'Guest Room #1' read 11:26. China tapped on its glass surface, pretending to be very interested on a smudge he found there. On the glass's reflection, however, he saw a head-desk worthy scene playing out. The actors of this scene? None other than two of his own adoptive younger brothers.

Behind him, South Korea was busy rubbing his hands all over Japan's chest. Japan himself was blushing furiously and attempting to break free of the Korean's grasps. To add to the odd pretense of the scene, the two were duking it out on the provided guest room bed. Needless to say, anyone who walked into the room at the moment would probably get the wrong idea.

Oh yes, the heart-shaped smudge on the clock was very interesting indeed.

Finally, China decided to intervene. He couldn't very well let either of his self-dubbed younger brothers get too ahead of themselves. He was the self-proclaimed "wisest country" after all.

"Aiya!" He chastised as he turned towards the younger two Asian countries, hands on hips. "Korea, stop harassing Japan, aru!"

"But, big brother...!" Came the whine. And then: "Can I have your breasts instead then, da ze?!"

"Absolutely not!"

A strange look crossed Korea's face at that moment. It was look of pure mischief and excitement. It was one that was stark in contrast to China's own expression: that of utter horror. The Chinese nation had fallen upon the conclusion that the Korean had found a new target: himself.

But both expressions changed suddenly. The cause of the change was the country who had kept on a blank expression while the other two were having a seemingly telepathic stare off. Between the two, Japan lurched forward and tumbled off of the bed. It was quite clear that he was unconscious.

"Korea, what did you do?!" China shouted in horror.

"I-I didn't do anything, da ze!" Came the exasperated stutter.

Both still-conscious nations leapt over to where the Japanese man lay and both were absolutely frantic. China, however, was a bit more calm and put to use his medical expertise. He rolled Japan over on to his back and placed the man's head on his lap.

"Is he dying, big brother?! Is he?!"

He then checked Japan's pulse and found that, although it was a bit sluggish, it was reasonably healthy in beat.

"This is bad! This is really bad, da ze!"

Next, he forced upon the man's eye and watched it dilate in response to the light within the room. So, it wasn't a concussion... That was good.

"Is he going to become a zombie?! I never even got to claim his breasts!"

He moved his hand upwards and towards Japan's forehead and rested it there. His head felt a bit warm, but it was nothing alarming or out of the ordinary. That ruled out a fever.

Was something serious going on in Japan that Kiku was refusing to tell them about? That seemed like the only viable explanation...

"What is it? What is it? What's wrong wi-

Japan, as if an electric current had charged through him, started at that moment, cutting Korea off completely. His brown eyes fluttered open and stared upwards in confusion. China saw his own confused and worried self staring back at him in the reflection of the man's dark pools.

"Chu...goku?"

Strange. China hadn't heard Japan address him as such in a very long time. For as long as he could remember, he had simply been either "China-san" or even "Mr. China" to the Japanese country. That was just how things had come to pass. And now something had changed. Something wasn't right.

"Kiku?" China tried hesitantly.

His answer was given with a kick to the face. China stumbled backwards with a loud "Aiya! What was that for?!" and cradled his bruised cheek. Blinking back tears, China registered an eerily familiar scene playing out before him. Oh yes, looking at the scene gave him a sickening sense of déjà vu. It was a scene that he had seen nearly a century ago.

There stood Japan, katana drawn out from seemingly nowhere, its point ghosting the surface of China's neck. Beside him and locked in his iron grip stood a baffled Korea who still had yet to allow the faint smile to fall from his cheeks. When the smile did finally fall, it was replaced by a gaping "o".

"Let go me of me, da ze! I did not consent to this!"

The ironic shout escaped Korea's mouth firmly and wildly; but the glint in Japan's eyes was just as cold as the glint on his blade's steel. He would not let go.

"Japan, what exactly do you think you are doing, aru?!" China questioned in exasperation as he nimbly hopped to his feet.

"I believe I am claiming for myself a victory."

Huh? Victory for what? For whom? Himself?... Was this a joke?

China stood there befuddled and unsure of how to react.

"I need more resources. You have plenty of them. It's only natural that I'm pointing my sword at you. We are enemies after all."

The speech sounded way too familiar for the liking of both China and Korea. It sent uncomfortable shudders down their spines. Those steely eyes did not belong to the Japan they knew of.

Said eyes suddenly became distracted by something, and Japan momentarily turned a blind-eye. He stared up at the corner of the room, seeing something that apparently only he alone could see. It didn't matter whether or not something was actually there to the other nations present; what mattered was that Japan now had an opening.

Korea utilized this advantage first, worming his way out of Japan's tight grasp and elbowing him hard in the stomach. China jumped in right after him, just as Japan doubled over, and lunged for the man's sword. Unfortunately, Japan noticed China's effort and abruptly slashed upwards at him with his blade.

"Aiya!" China blanched as he leaned backwards, barely managing to dodge the attack. Despite this setback, he skillfully kicked upwards at the Japanese man with his left leg and knocked him off of his feet.

Japan was quick to get up, however, and charged at China with a pointed thrust. Korea saw this movement and quickly moved to knock over the large grandfather clock with his outstretched foot to obstruct Japan's path. This obstacle skillfully was leapt over, much to China and Korea's chagrin; and China barely managed to block Japan's thrust with the surface of a stray, hand-held mirror that he had found lying on the ground merely moments before.

The sound the two objects made as they clinked together was excruciatingly loud and grating. It resonated within the room; and every laden piece of furniture seemed to vibrate in the tense atmosphere.

Clack!

Japan struck again, and China managed to block again.

Brown eyes met brown. Killing-intent against utter confusion.

It was at that moment the doors of the room were thrown open and a handful of countries entered. Said handful consisted of one excited American, one irritable Swiss, one serious German, one crying Italian, and one cautious Brit.

It was a strange sight that laid before these entering countries, but it was an oddly familiar one.

"Dude, Japan," America blinked in surprise, not noticing the tense atmosphere and completely breaking the silence, "did China do something to piss you off? Don't tell me: he plagiarized again, didn't he?!"

The American's loud and boisterous laugh echoed awkwardly throughout the entire room. His laughter just seemed to thin out the atmosphere all the more. It was so thin that even a single misspoken word would have caused it to snap and collapse in on itself.

China wished someone would just shut the American up already.

"Japan, I don't know what China did to set you off," Germany cut the American off with a mild glare, fulfilling China's wish, "but I'm sure we can resolve this without violence."

"Huh?!" China blanched, visibly offended. "How come all of you are assuming that I'm the one who did something wrong, aru?!"

"T-that's right, da ze!" South Korea chirped helpfully from behind Japan while pointing an accusatory finger at him. "He's the one who went ax-crazy on us!"

"V-Ve, Japan," Italy whimpered as he waved his hands wildly about, "please stop! Please put down the pointy sword! Can't we all just get along?"

Japan continued to pressure China down with his katana. His icy and determined expression startled the gathered nations.

...

"Pardon me, but why?"

'Why'?

_"Why _aren't you apprehending America and England? We finally have managed to corner them; this is the fastest way to victory. The Allies are within our grasps... That's why we became 'friends', isn't it? To defeat them... Unless... Unless you're betraying our agreement now..."

"Japan..." Germany murmured in complete confusion. "...What... are you talking about?"

'Allies'. 'Agreement'. Terms that were over half of a century old. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Would it be ridiculous to assume that Japan was confusing the past with the present?

"The war..." China drew slowly, filling in the blanks as he struggled to halt Japan's impeding blade. "It's over, aru! All this talk about 'Allies' - it's been over half of a century since we've even referred to each other like that, aru!"

Now it was Japan's turn to look utterly confused.

Several other nations began thinking along the same lines of China as well, and their eyes widened in surprise. Was it even possible for such a thing to occur? For a country to completely forget...?

"Japan," England finally managed, having been strangely silent during the entire ordeal. "What year is it...?"

"1942." Came the distrustful answer.

The room became silent.

"Dude," America interjected, smile sliding from his face. "It's 20XX."

"... Nani?" Japan eyes narrowed; his muscles slackened. "Is this some sort of western joke?"

"Enough of this nonsense!"

Switzerland shouted this angrily as he charged towards the distracted Japan. He clenched his hands together in front off him and swung his arms across the side of Japan's head. The Japanese man could barely put on an expression of surprise before his eyes snapped to the back of his head and he slumped to the ground unconscious. His katana clattered uselessly to the ground beside him.

The other countries stood there in shock for several seconds before they snapped into action.

"J-Japan, aru!" China shouted in horror as he dropped his former defensive weapon and rushed to the unconscious man's side.

"S-Switzerland!" England shouted, flustered. "That was more than a bit too violent!"

"You completely KO'd him, man!"

"V-Vee... Will Japan be alright?"

"I only handled the situation quickly and effectively." The Swiss huffed with crossed arms and a stubborn look. "He'll be fine... I only knocked him out."

"Putting that aside," Germany muttered under his breath, chancing a worried glance at Japan, "what was going on with Japan...?"

"I don't know, da ze." South Korea pronounced loudly. "Maybe all the hard work finally went to his head~!"

"It actually..." Switzerland frowned, as he rubbed his chin. "... Sounded like amnesia."

"Wait!" America exclaimed with eyes as wide as saucers. "Is something like that even possible?"

Of course it wasn't. They were countries. They couldn't suffer from such a thing... Right?

"England, you've remained awfully quiet during this entire ordeal." Germany commented, not in a distrustful but a truly curious sort of way. "What's your opinion on this?"

"Well, maybe..."

All eyes were on England now. Some gazes were jaded with distrust, while others glimmered with pure curiosity.

"There are a bunch of these odd-looking butterflies flying around," England explained with a frown, "and I noticed several of them were strangely attracted to Japan - Spain and, you too, America have attracted some as well. I believe that those creatures have something to with all of," he gestured towards Japan, "this..."

Silence. People exchanged glances.

"This isn't the time to be making jokes, England." Germany sighed.

"I-I'm not joking around!" England shouted back angrily. "This is serious!"

"Uh, Iggy," America commented with an oblivious smile, "I don't see any of your imaginary friends floating around my head - just an FYI."

"They're not imaginary! You just can't see them, because they're made of condensed mana particles!"

Germany and Italy exchanged looks. China paused in his tending of Japan and clicked his tongue. Korea quickly looked away from England, not wanting to make eye contact. Switzerland looked slightly miffed. And even America was coughing awkwardly to himself.

England twitched at this sight.

"Y-you can go ahead and not believe me if you want!" England stuttered, becoming red in the face. "It's the truth. They're bloody everywhere now!" He swatted at nothing in the air.

* * *

At the same time England was attempting to explain the situation was to those around him, Spain was feeling rather dizzy. Perhaps the flashing buttons of the generator room were attributing to his dizziness. Or perhaps it was the clacking noise Prussia was making as he rifled through power wires with a wrench and screwdriver. Whatever it was, it made him so dizzy that he even stumbled over his own two feet.

-and that's when I realized how beautiful he truly was."

France, who had been re accounting another love tale of his, stopped short as he noticed Spain's sway; he rose from the metal fold-up chair he had been sitting on and approached the Spaniard worriedly:

"My friend, are you alright?"

"Mm.." Spain shook his head roughly and rubbed his eyes, a feeling of nausea sweeping over him; he somehow managed a weak smile nonetheless. "I'm alright... Kinda d-dizzy though... I must've eaten something weird... Or something."

Prussia poked his head out of the generator cabinet and peered at Spain and France with a raised eyebrow:

"What's up?"

"Spain's feeling under the weather." France answered.

"Feeling beat already, huh?" Prussia laughed loudly. "I thought you had more juice in you than that! That's just un-awesome, man."

"I can't blame him," France sighed with a flourish of his head. "Everyone else in the meeting was so immature, oui?"

"Preach, man, preach." Prussia grinned, wiping an oil smudge off the bridge of his nose. "Totally un-awesome."

Spain started to smile wider at the statements but stopped when a sharp pain struck his head. He immediately doubled over and cradled his forehead with a slack hand.

"S-Spain?!" France yelped and straightened the man up and peered into his emerald eyes.

Spain peered into France's own blue eyes, but his vision blurred them so that they were indistinguishable from the rest of his face. His vision continued to blur until it stretched out into complete and utter blackness. Thankfully, however, his vision returned a second later.

Spain now found himself sitting on odd chair, staring up at a pair of worried blue eyes and a pair of frowning red ones.

"France?" Spain shook his head hard, smiling his bright smile again. "What's going on?"

"'Whats going on'?" Prussia repeated as he drew back and laughed nervously. "You just fainted on us! That's what's going on, Sleeping Beauty ! You were out for like five minutes!"

"Really?" Spain frowned for the first time that day. "I don't remember fainting..."

The Spaniard's gaze drifted towards France's face again, taking in the stubble that dotted his chin. Strange. He didn't remember France looking that old before. He didn't remember the man's eyes looking so distant and sad either. He shook his head roughly, the feeling of nausea striking again as well as the throbbing pain inside of his head.

"He's still not looking very well - though he does look quite cute when he's passed out..." France sighed, turning back towards Prussia who was nervously fiddling with nodules. "I'm going to go tell the others and see what they can do about this." He rose from his crouching position: "Do you mind keeping an eye on him?"

"What?!" Prussia exclaimed, looking as if he had been insulted. "I'm not a damned babysitter."

"Oh," France shrugged, "fine then. I'll watch him instead. Honhonhonhon~!"

"No!" Prussia shouted firmly, holding up a hand. "I'll watch him because that's what awesome people do and because I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself, you Frenchie!"

France shrugged innocently, said something about love, and quickly exited the room. It was shortly after that that Spain completely collapsed within the room and would not wake up no matter how hard Prussia shook him.

Several minutes later at 12:10 Finland, Norway, and Romano, in search of the trio, found themselves facing off against a true conquistador.

* * *

**Status**

Meeting room: (13) Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Poland, Canada, Liechtenstein, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Romano, Austria

Hallways: (11) Romania, Turkey, Greece, Hungary, Netherlands, Belgium, Russia, Belarus, Taiwan, Hong Kong, France

Generator Room: (2) Prussia, Spain

Guest Room #1: (8) China, Japan, South Korea, America, England, Germany, Switzerland, Veneziano

Total: 34 / Confirmed Affected: 1

* * *

**A/N**: And an update appears!

Many thanks to all who followed, favorited, and reviewed, especially PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow who gave me some pretty helpful advice.


	3. True Conquistador

**III. Memory of a True Conquistador**

* * *

[_I'm not usually interested in such things, so when I saw 'them' wander into our 'place' I thought, "Oh, another boring meal." That's what a person usually thinks when they've faced the same scenario over and over again. _

_That was then. But now...?_

_I still can't grasp the meaning of it. I don't understand it. I can't comprehend it. But I do know for certain that 'they' are something special. Something unique. _

_Unique in that the memory that I'm savoring right now isn't like any memory I've tasted before. It's sour and melancholy. It's sweet and happy. It's a contradiction. No, it's tragic. But tragic souls are my favorite meal. _

_It's in my nature after all._ ]

* * *

"They've been gone for a while."

Norway said this, not with an expression of worry, but with a face set with stone.

Finland glanced up at the traditional clock that ticked away above the wooden doors of the meeting room and saw that what the man had said was true. It was 12:01, and the group that had volunteered to investigate the clanging sound had been gone for over twenty minutes. What was taking them?

"Those bastards can do whatever they want." Romano grumbled from where he reclined in his seat, feet kicked up onto the table. "I bet my idiot brother is making a big deal out of something stupid and making them deal with his stupid ass." His angry tone barely hid his true, worried one.

"M-maybe we should go check up on them?"

A quiet, whispered suggestion. But from who? Romano didn't know, even though the voice that had asked the question emitted only several inches from his right. There was only one explanation for such an occurrence. There was a ghost in the area.

Romano immediately let out a cry and jumped behind Austria who had been sitting beside him. He ducked low behind the man, shaking. Liechtenstein, who was flipping through a small book to the left of the Austrian, blinked down in surprise at the Italian.

"And what do you think your doing?" Austria questioned thickly, irritated at having been interrupted while writing a musical score for his new piano composition.

"I-I'm using you as a human shield, damnit!"

Austria sighed. "And what am I shielding you against?"

"The god damned ghost, you bastard."

"I'm not a ghost." Said the ghost with a thin smile. "I'm Canada."

Nobody seemed to recognize the ghost-like country, sadly. And said country could do nothing but smile meekly and repeat his suggestion:

"We should go check on them..."

"Psh," Romano clicked his tongue as he pulled himself away from Austria, "you do that shit yourself. I'm going to find that dumbass Spaniard - the damn bastard still owes me the money I lent him last week and I ain't waitin' around anymore."

He stood and drifted towards the door. And then...

"I'll come with you."

"What?" Denmark, who was having an arm wrestling contest with one teary-eyed Latvia, pouted. "Come on, Norge, we were just about to have a drinkin' contest!"

"Yeah!" Romano scoffed, rudely waving the Norwegian off. "I don't need your creepy ass following me."

Norway and Denmark glanced up mildly at the Italian, causing him to shrink back despite the fact that their glances were not bad-natured.

"Y-You can come if you want, you bastard!"

Finland watched as Romano's expression soured; and he glanced warily at Denmark and Norway - both were evidently oblivious to the nervousness they were causing the Italian. Sighing internally, the Finn supposed that he ought to act in a fashion that would somehow lessen Romano's jitteriness. From what he could tell, he and Romano got along pretty well. So, he said with a pleasant smile:

"Do you mind if I come too, Romano?"

Romano glanced at him before he shrugged halfheartedly. He would never admit that he was too frightened to walk down into the generator room alone. It would just be pathetic.

Taking the shrug as a positive answer, Finland began to make his way towards the door. He was stopped, however, by a firm grip on the shoulder; and he turned and saw that Sweden was gazing at him rather intently.

"Don't worry, Sve." Finland blinked with a cautious smile "We're just checking the generator room - it's not a big deal."

"'mkay."

Sweden released his grip and nodded.

"I-I'm glad that Finland can understand you, Sweden." Latvia gushed suddenly from the sidelines in a nervous bout of recklessness. "A lot of us can't even understand you at all! We think you're scary as heck!"

"Hmm...?" Sweden questioned, having not fully heard what the Latvian had said. His curious nature, however, was interpreted as aggression.

Lithuania and Estonia (even though the latter was well acquainted with the Swede) quickly slapped their hands over the shorter Baltic's mouth and began to laugh nervously:

"What he meant was that..."

"He thinks you are scary in a good way... Like you're totally intimidatingly strong and stuff.

"Man," Poland interjected as he shook his blonde head from side to side with a sassy flaunt of his hand, "that was, like, totally pathetic!"

"Are you bastards coming or what?"

Romano grumbled this, one foot out of the doorway, having watched the entire ordeal with a mixture of uneasiness and impatience. Finland picked up on the Italian's discomfort and reassured Sweden with a smile before proceeding to the door. Norway silently followed suit.

* * *

'Strange...' The shadow thought as it traced along the cream-colored hall. 'Everything here looks so strange. Strange and new.'

-astard is probably having a drinking contest with those two other bastards." Came a voice from down the hall.

The shadow smirked.

'And I want it all!'

* * *

Romano was ticked.

No, he was angry.

No... He was outright pissed!

Why did such misfortune have to befall him? Why did two drunken Vikings just have to accompany him? Why? Why? Why?!

It was as if the universe was going out of its way to get at him.

With all of these thoughts ricocheting through his mind, Romano trudged along the red carpeting of the hallway, glaring at the row of full-body knight armor displays that lined the wall. His reflection on the steel surfaces glared right back at him.

"Wow," Finland murmured with awe from behind him, "don't those weapons look so cool?"

Indeed the assorted weapons that the each knight held in their right hand did look rather spectacular. But they also looked rather dangerous. Large axes. Sharp halberds. Double edged swords.

"I mean," the Finn continued, "they're so big and cool!"

"Really?" Norway deadpanned, glancing at the weapons with little interest. "I've seen bigger."

Romano blanched, while Finland laughed.

"I wonder if Spain and France are helping Prussia out in the generator room or are just fooling around. They are kind of goofy like that."

Finland chuckled this after a pause in silence and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. He peered at Romano's expression curiously, having hoped that his mention of Spain would have peaked the Italian's interest. And it did:

"Che, as if those idiots would actually do any work," Romano scoffed at the idea. "The bastard is probably having a drinking contest with those two other bastards-

"Hey... One of the weapons is missing..."

Romano and Norway paused in step, the first with a scowl and the latter with an arched eyebrow, and turned to see Finland staring in wonder at a particular suit of armor. Said suit of armor was indeed missing a weapon.

"Or maybe it was made that way." Romano retorted. "Who the hell cares anyways?" The Italian certainly didn't. What he cared about was figuring out the source of the whooshing sound that had suddenly filled the air. It sounded like someone was repeatedly lacerating the air with a knife.

"Hm," Finland frowned at the answer, tilting his head at the display, "it looks kind of out of place without its weapon though."

The sound grew louder, and Romano could literally feel the choppy gushes of wind lapping at his face. He turned his head towards the fanning source as did the others.

A great halberd swung in large, graceful arcs through the air guided by an olive hand. The owner of this hand had on a bright smile that did not meet his jaded green eyes.

"Que? And what bountiful lands lay before my eyes?"

"S-Spain?" Finland blanched.

"..." Norway blinked.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Romano exclaimed.

Before them indeed stood Spain. But, in a sense, it was not Spain. Surely Spain would never look at them with such hungry eyes. Surely he would not smile so excitably while wielding such a dangerous weapon. Surely he would not charge at them maniacally with said weapon. Surely Spain would not. Yet he did.

The tip of the halberd sliced horizontally through the air, its pointed destination heading right for the base of Romano's neck. If it were not for the fact that Norway kicked his leg beneath him causing him to fall backwards, Romano would have been no more.

Romano landed in Finland's awaiting arms with an expression of shock. Before either of them could react any further, the halberd sliced down on them again and again, each time Finland having to toss Romano this way and that so that he would not be lacerated by the weapon.

It was a relentless onslaught.

"Hey, hey! Come on! This isn't going to be very fun for me if you won't let me cut you at least once."

-Spain said this as if he was just making pleasant talk and not attempting murder.

"S-Spain, what are you doing?" Finland shouted, panting as he threw Romano to his right. "It's us!"

"Both of you bastards just need to fucking stop! Chigi!"

Surprisingly enough, the halberd came to a stop and was promptly lowered. Its end was slammed loudly on to the ground, and it's body was used as a support system as the Spaniard leaned forward. Romano and Spain were now only inches away from each other, their noses literally a nose hair away from rubbing up against the other.

Green eyes met amber eyes.

Romano gulped, his face becoming flushed. Those green eyes were intense. Way too intense.

"W-What the hell do you think you're doing?!

"Hm?" Spain blinked slowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You'd make a cute subordinate you know? Although that vulgar personality of yours would probably have to be dealt with..."

Romano felt Finland shakily pull him closer to his body. If circumstances had been different, the Italian would have mouthed him off right there. In this case, however, Romano too was shaking and unable to do such a thing.

But why- Spain wasn't a scary person. He was - Romano didn't dare to admit it - kind. Something didn't fit. Logic had escaped out of the window.

"What are you talking about, b-bastard? Stop acting so crazy, dammit!"

"It's Finland and Romano, Spain! We're friends!" Finland insisted.

Spain then took on an expression of surprise. It was an expression that lasted for several, long, and drawn out seconds - seconds in which he studied them with scrutiny, eyes rolling over every single facial feature, every single hair on their faces. After those seconds passed, the expression turned to that of amusement; and laughter filled the air.

"Que? Eres muy gracioso! And what? I've travelled into the future?"

"Huh?" Finland and Romano blanched in unison.

Had the man finally snapped? What relevance did his words hold in the current situation? - Thoughts similar to this ran through Romano's head.

"As I thought," Norway drew suddenly from behind them, having somehow faded into the background during the whole occurrence, "you've been affected by them..."

Spain craned his head backwards, eyebrows raised, evidently surprised that he had not noticed the Norwegian earlier.

"And who are you?"

"You don't remember me?"

"...Your face may or may not have slipped my mind, señor."

Suddenly, as if it was a mere whiplash from his earlier actions, Spain whipped his halberd in a low arc, sweeping Finland off of his feet and grabbing Romano as the former accidently released him. As the Finn hit the ground, the Spaniard shoved the Italian against the wall and lifted him upwards by the scruff. He did this all while maintaining eye contact with the Norwegian and smiling.

"Romano!"

Finland scrambled to his feet but was stopped in his struggle as the halberd rushed out to meet his throat.

"L-let me go!" Romano spat angrily and tearily. "Let me go, you crazy-ass fuck!

The Italian wasn't sure why he was tearing up for. Sure, his body ached and his body was bruised; sure, he was downright terrified; but his tears were of another source. But what was it? Maybe... Possibly... Did he feel... Betrayed?

Spain's eyes ran along Romano's face, studying his tanned skin, glistening eyes, and dark bangs. The hungry smile already on the Spaniard's face grew even more, so much more that Romano was certain that the smile would consume his entire face.

"Bella..."

The quiet whispered word: "beautiful". It would have made Romano become angrily flustered under normal circumstances. But the spoken tone of the word was that of a person shopping for a dress, suit, or jewelry, not of true affection. "Beautiful", like how a diamond was beautiful. An object to be out on display.

This. Was. Not. Spain- it was a conclusion Romano had reached long ago, but Spain's word had further done away with any of his doubts. Finland had come to this conclusion as well, his normally bright eyes brimming with a strange fire. Norway, on the other hand, had reached this conclusion way before the other two. When Spain had made his way towards them and when he had see the bright butterflies that fluttered all around him, Norway immediately knew.

That was why he had begun preparing _it_ the moment he saw the man. That was why he reluctantly blended into the background. Now, however, the preparations were done, and he was ready.

The Norwegian his fingertips towards the Spaniard with a stolid expression.

Behind him, several circles of blue characters swirled like the cogs of a machine born from thin air, glowing and spreading outwards. The characters looked like they were carved from ice, spewing out misty frost and a frigid glaze.

A gush of cold air followed by a jet stream of blue shot out towards Spain who barely was able to register an expression of surprise before it hit him head-on. The sheer force of the jet stream knocked him backwards and caused him to relinquish his grasp on Romano. The Italian slumped to the ground with a groan and was immediately aided to by Finland despite his swear-laced protests. Norway was instantly at the duo's side and peered at them:

"... Are you alright?"

"Yah," Finland nodded with a tentative smile, "nothing broken." His gaze drifted to the dust clearing out around Spain. "Is he...?"

"What the hell was that sparkle shit?" Romano grimaced, still attempting to struggle out of the Finnish man's grasp.

"Magic."

It was a single word that gave birth to many questions, none of which Norway had the time to answer. Just beyond him, Spain began to rise and stir.

"That wasn't very respectful..." the Spaniard drew in a haughty voice as he came to a stand, halberd wrapped tightly in his hand - his grip was so tight that it looked as if the weapon would snap in two at that very moment. "What will the queen think of me, being beaten by a bunch of cute and little countries like this-

A loud and metallic bang echoed through the hallway, cutting Spain off short. His bright and toxic green eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he slumped to the ground with a loud and echoing thud. Behind his fallen form stood one Miss Hungary, poised wielding a now-dented frying pan.

"Will someone please tell me what is going on here?" she questioned vehemently, placing her hands on her hips.

"Magic," Romano mumbled, looking away from Spain's unmoving form, "apparently."

"Well," Hungary frowned, bending down to pick up Spain and hoisting him over her shoulder, "I'm going to have to have a better explanation than that, Romano."

Norway, Finland, and Romano stood, staring in slight disbelief at the woman's strength, before Norway stepped forward and gestured backwards towards the meeting room:

"I think it would be best for everyone to hear the explanation." He explained, before whispering under his breath so quietly that not even the sharpest of ears could hear him: "And it would be best for everyone to leave this house immediately."

"I-I'll go search for the others and tell them all to meet up in the meeting room then!" Finland piped.

"No." Norway forbade in a protective voice, earning a look of confusion from the Finnish man. "It's too dangerous."

"What?" Romano growled. "Too dangerous?! A-And you just want to leave everyone not in the meeting room uninformed of the danger? Feliciano!-

"I'll go get them myself." Norway replied curtly, turning on his heels towards the opposite direction of the meeting room and walking off before anyone could stop him.

He continued down the hallway deep in thought. He didn't quite understand how _this _was possible. How could there be such a concentration of those _things_ in the building? Such a thing should have been improbable... unless... unless.

Norway stopped in his tracks as the realization hit him. If his theory was correct, the probability of all of them leaving the building was close to zero. A loud bout of bickering drew his attention away from his thoughts. The bickering was in a mixture of Turkish and Greek.

Sure enough, at the very end of a sharp-turn in the hallway stood Turkey and Greek themselves. The two had each other by the scruffs. If the Norwegian let them be, they were sure to kill each other. Now, Norway rarely interacted with the two Mediterranean countries, so he immediately knew that their confrontation would be undeniably awkward. Nevertheless, he approached them.

"You're the stupid face-Hmm... Norway...?"

Greece was the first to notice the Scandinavian country and peered at him curiously, all while still holding his death grip on Turkey.

"... Emergency meeting in the meeting room." Norway informed the two Mediterranean countries vaguely. He then walked around the corner past them without providing any further explanation; they, in turn, stared at his shrinking back in confusion, before heading towards the meeting room. The two walked there, while still holding each other by the scruff.

Norway paused, turning back to look at the duo - more specifically, looking at the cluster of butterflies that fluttered above the Turkish man's head. He looked above his own head; and his entire face was bathed in a golden light that was more intense than the sun. Such a thing was expected - he was a magic-user after all.

It was at that moment that he came across all of the former occupants of Guest Room #1. England and America headed said group off with Germany, who held an evidently unconscious Japan in his arms, tailing the back.

Norway observed the group for a long moment, his gaze lingering on Japan's form. His eyes then rose to Germany's hesitant expression. Something about the German struck the Norwegian as strange, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Norway..." England mumbled.

"Spain has also been affected." Norway informed the Brit.

"Wait," America butted in, a strange seriousness settling onto his face, "Spain is also having memory problems? So it's not just Japan. What's going on here?"

"Brother Spain also is...?" Italy murmured from beside Germany, a fearful look entering his eyes.

"We'll explain fully when we get to the meeting room." Norway responded. "I'm going to tell the others to meet us there first."

"I think it would be best for all of us present to understand the situation first." Germany spoke suddenly. "For safety measures. We can look for the others later."

China nodded in agreement.

"If that's what you wish..."

* * *

At the same exact moment that the agreement was made, Romania wandered into a large and dusty room. The room was pitifully dark, but the Romanian's eyes were trained for such things so he easily identified every object in the room. And as he registered the furniture within the room, he immediately regretted having such good eyes.

Life-sized dolls and puppets were strewn all over the room. And all of the puppets were eerily similar in appearance to the countries themselves.

"Nenorocit!" Came the Romanian swear.

* * *

Meeting room: (26) Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Poland, Canada, Liechstenstein, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Romano, Austria, China, Japan, South Korea, America, England, Germany, Switzerland, Veneziano, Turkey, Greece, Hungary, Spain, France

Hallways: (6) Netherlands, Belgium, Russia, Belarus, Taiwan, Hong Kong,

Doll Room: (1) Romania

Unknown: (1) Prussia

Total: 34/ Confirmed Affected: 2

* * *

**A/N**: Ta da! Our favorite Spaniard goes on a slashing spree! Thanks to all who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed! Please continue to do so! Reviews make me very happy


	4. Doll Room

**IV. Memory of a Doll Room**

* * *

[_It's okay for us to be doing this, right?_

_Don't be ridiculous. Of course it is! It's not like they're __**human**_ _anyways. They're all more like puppets that __**real **__humans guide and control. _

_But… What about how they feel about it?_

_Just because they don't feel that it's right doesn't mean that it's not right. It's not like they have feeling anyways. If they did, we'd just be helping them anyways _— _sparing them from all of those bad memories and feelings. T_

_You're absolutely right! They should be thanking us._]

* * *

Romania had always been the one to cause other people to be afraid— other people namely being Hungary, Bulgaria, and, at times, Turkey. He reveled, not in causing fear, but in seeing how people reacted to their own fear. It was enjoyable and amusing.

Romania was, however, never the one who _was_ afraid. That was why he wasn't afraid when he wandered into the strange room and found out exactly what the room contained; rather, he was curious and a tad bit uneasy. But not afraid.

Several dolls were strewn around the floor, while others were propped up on stands. Some had all of their body parts attached and in order, while others consisted only of a head and a torso. None of the dolls were fully clothed, but they all had a full head of hair and a pair of glass eyes.

A large and round clock laid abandoned at the very corner of the room. It ticked slowly and eerily towards 12:31. If it were not for its slow ticking, the room would have been dead silent.

The room itself was musty, long and purple drapes wrapping arounds its entirety. It didn't take Romania long to conclude that the room hadn't seen the light of day for a long while. It didn't surprise him though — not with all of those weird butterflies fluttering around the building. Said butterflies were actually the reason he entered the room in the first place. He had seen a whole cluster of them nestling on the black door leading into the room, and he had thought it in his best interests to investigate — he, of course, had dispelled the butterflies on the door first, before he dared to touch the door knob.

"Nenorocit!" he swore, walking over to one of the dolls that laid prostrate on the floor. He crouched down right next to it and picked up one of its pale limbs. He released it and watched it fall limply to the floor. Shifting slightly, he reached over to the doll's head and tilted it backwards so that he could see its face. His eyes widened as the doll's face registered in his mind. Staring back at him was an exact replica of Austria's face. "Creepy…" he laughed to himself.

The Austria-doll's inhuman wisteria eyes stared back at him. Romania returned the stare, half expecting the thing to blink. It, of course, did not.

"Now…" he said to himself as he released the doll's head and came to a stand, "why exactly would an Austria clone — or any country clone at all — be doing in here?"

A creak in the floorboards answered him, causing him to turn his head. He peered around the room, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hello?" he called in a sing-song voice. "Anybody there?"

"Da," came a voice right next to his left ear, "just me."

Romania turned in surprise and found himself blinking at one smiling Russia. He and Russia had been good friends in the past, but they had recently gotten out of touch. His friendship with Russia had helped him adapt to the man's strange personality. Even before he had become friends with the Russian man, however, he found it strange how everyone seemed to fear him.

"Russia!" Romania blinked, his curious expression turning into a frowning one. "What are you doing in here? More specifically, _when _did you get in here?"

"I could ask the same of you." the Russian replied, smile still in place.

"...You're hiding from Belarus aren't you?"

"...Da."

Russia said this with a defeated sigh.

"Well," Romania said tactfully, "I'm investigating, y'see."

"Investigating?" Russia blinked with curiosity. "That sounds fun! Can I join?"

"It's pretty dangerous." Romania replied haughtily, giving his voice a haunting edge. "And it involves magic too — dark magic!"

Russia's smile remained in place and he simply added: "That sounds even more fun!" His wisteria eyes then drifted around the room; and he appeared to come to realize how odd the contents of the room actually were. He tilted his head at the strangeness, his eyes maturing and darkening in an instant: "Explain…"

"I wish I could."

And Romania honestly did wish he could explain the situation to the Russian, but he couldn't quite understand said situation himself. He supposed that conferring with the two other magic-oriented countries (England and Norway) might assist him in in his understanding, but England was way too weird and Norway was way too awkward — they too were probably having difficulty understanding what was going anyways.

"But, honestly, I don't really know what's goin' on myself, but I'll tell you once I know what all of ...this… is."

The door to the room suddenly flew open, and Romania and Russia turned their heads towards the doorway in unison. A truly horrifying being walked into the room at that moment, its entire frame bathed in a soft white light. It closed the door behind itself, snuffing out all hope of escape.

"Bro...ther…" the being drawled in a haughty voice, taking one step forward at a time "Why...did...you...leave...me…?!"

Russia and Romania shrilly yelled in unison, clinging to each other like it was the end of the world. At the doorway stood none other than Belarus herself, a maniacally upset glint in her eye.

"Belarus!"

Note: Romania had been surprised, not scared.

"Brother, you would rather be hanging out with this _creep_ than me?" Belarus questioned, folding her arms in front of her chest. Her voice sounded hurt, but it also had a dangerous edge to it.

"'Creep'?" Romania frowned, untangling himself from Russia in an oddly regal way. "You could have at least come up with something more original, Bel."

"Don't call me that." came the hiss.

It was at that moment that a bright light caught Romania's eye. He turned his head upwards towards the ceiling — but he could not actually _see_ the ceiling. It was covered with brilliant, golden wings. He had seen them numerous times around the building and his mind had screamed danger when he did; and now a bunch of them were fluttering before his eyes, and his mind was overloading with red and flashing warning signs.

"Oi, I think the creep over there is out of it… Would you like me to stab him to get him to focus, brothe—

Before Belarus could finish her sentence, Romania reached out to grab her hand as well as Russia's hand and darted to the doorway. He could literally hear the hum of fluttering wings reverberating behind him; and he was sure that if he stopped in his sprint, all three of them would surely be swallowed up by the light and noise.

Kicking the door open as he reached it, the Romanian threw the two ice countries out of the doorway before diving out of the room himself. All three of them hit the opposite wall hard. Shaking off the dizziness of impact, Romania came to a stand and glanced past the open door and into the room.

The butterflies crowded and fluttered just behind the doorway. An invisible force appeared to be keeping them contained within the room. Romania's displacement spell was still in effect, but it was weakening. He would have to manually strengthen it.

Approaching the doorway with tentativeness, Romania poised himself. He had placed the dispellment on the door itself — and since the door opened inwards, he would have to reach into the room to get it. He cursed his luck but then shrugged it off; well, he thought, at least the result of his endeavours would provide him with experimental data on the damage the butterflies could do.

Swearing under his breath, he darted his hand into the room and reached for the doorknob. As his fingers wrapped around the metal of the knob, he felt something brush against his hand.

The world around him twisted and distorted, folding up until he couldn't tell the difference between up and down, reality and illusion.

* * *

It was 12:41 when the meeting room was settled. The unconscious Japan and Spain were resting quietly on a make-shift bed of combined chairs. The conscious countries were gathered around the meeting room table in silence.

"So, Norway," Germany finally spoke, "England claims that a magical creature is the source of Japan's and Spain's… condition. What's your take on this, Norway?"

England sent the German man a slight glare, but he focused his gaze on Norway nonetheless.

"They are magical creatures." Norway agreed.

"W-Well, if Norway says it…" Latvia mumbled, "then it must be true!"

England also sent him a glare.

"Wait, like, if this is the real deal," came Poland, "how come we can't see them? The butterflies or whatever?"

"Only those who are attuned to magic are able to see them." Norway answered curtly. "England, Romania, and me."

"Romania too…?" Hungary mumbled to herself, suddenly looking somewhat cross.

"From what we've gathered," England interjected, "the magical creature is a parasite of some sort and it apparently has a taste for memories. We don't know the exact species of the creature yet."

"Man, if it's as bad as you guys make it sound," Turkey frowned from where he reclined in his seat, "why aren't we out of here packing already?"

"I agree." Switzerland frowned. "The more time we spend in this building, the more there is of a risk."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible." Norway stated calmly; and even England looked shocked by his conclusion. "For one," the Norwegian glanced at America, Turkey, and Switzerland in particular, "several of you have already been selected as hosts by them; but the main reason for why we can't leave is because we have wandered right into their nest."

"Well let's bust our way out then!" Denmark swore loudly. "The old fashioned way! We'll tear their nest to pieces — just like old times!"

"I don't see why the hell we can't leave just because we're in their damn house!" Romano growled. Veneziano shivered beside him and nodded, clinging tightly to Germany's arm; the German looked slightly annoyed, but he didn't shift to pull his arm away.

"What do you usually do before you leave your house, Romano?" England questioned suddenly, "What do you usually do right after you enter your house?"

"What do you do when somebody asks you a stupid question?" Romano retorted back, before shrinking under England's gaze; he mumbled and looked away: "... I lock my doors."

"Exactly." England agreed. "And that's exactly what the creatures did. They've locked their doors."

"You're telling me these creatures — butterfly-like in appearance or so you've told me — grew arms and manually locked all of the doors in this building?" Austria questioned in a curious, not mocking, manner.

"I checked the windows and doorways on my way here." Norway answered. "They're covered in the creatures."

"What I want to know is how they can affect us in the first place." China interjected with a frown. "We're countries, aru!"

"I don't quite understand it myself actually…" England mumbled.

"Wait," France said suddenly, glancing backwards at where Spain lay and then glancing at Germany, "Before I left the Generator Room, Spain mentioned that he was feeling dizzy and even fell unconscious for a moment. He was acting quite strange after that."

Norway and England mulled thoughtfully over the given information. Japan also had fallen unconscious, according China and Korea's claims. Perhaps that "fainting factor" had to do with when the creatures devoured their memories?

"I left Prussia in the Generator Room with Spain." France continued as realization dawned on him; he turned towards Finland. "Where did you say you found Spain?"

"W-Wandering the hallways." Finland answered, eyes widening.

The room fell into silence. Germany's eyes narrowed.

"Y-You don't think that Spain…?" Estonia murmured.

"I didn't kill your friend, if that's the conclusion you're coming to." came a voice from the makeshift bed. "When I woke up, I was alone."

All heads turned towards the makeshift beds where one smiling Spaniard sat gazing at them in an amused fashion.

Immediately Switzerland drew out his rifle, pushing Liechtenstein who stood beside him behind him. Turkey jumped up from his chair in surprise, body tensed; Greece started from where he lay on the ground, now alert and awake; and Romano yelped, taking several steps backwards. Despite all of their adverse reactions, those who had yet to see the butterflies effects on a country's memory were curious and eager to see how Spain would act.

"Now, now," the Spaniard waved their reactions off amicably, "don't do anything ridiculous. I won't harm you or anything. I think I understand the situation from what I've heard of your conversation."

"S-Spain!" Finland piped.

"And what…" Germany drew slowly. "... is it that you understand?"

"I've traveled into the future!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... of course it has to do with all of those butterflies that you mentioned." the Spaniard continued. "We should be thankful that none of them are in here, si?"

"..."

"..."

"Wow," Romano scoffed, "he was this airheaded in the past too?"

Spain's glowering green gaze landed on Romano's scoffing expression — said expression immediately fell. The Spaniard approached the Italian, smile still in place.

"That wasn't very nice." he said. "Someone should teach you some manners."

The room tensed. Suddenly and abruptly, however, America slid in between Spain and Romano wearing a smile as well.

"So," the American drew, placing a hand on the Spaniard's shoulder, "must be supes awkward seeing everyone older and grumpier, huh?"

"Si, it's quite confusing." Spain answered brightly, before he reached and grabbed America's hand off of his shoulder with a stony grip. "You look a lot like that little new country everybody has been talking about recently."

"That's probs me then." America replied just as brightly. He didn't appear to be affected by Spain's vice-like hold on his hand, despite the quiet cracking sound that echoed inaudibly throughout the room.

"Well, if that's true," Spain murmured thoughtfully, raising his free hand to point at the trio standing behind America, "that must be South Italy…"

Romano scowled, but looked away as Spain smiled at him.

"...that must be little North Italy…."

"Brother Spain…" Veneziano whimpered.

"And that must be Holy Rome then!" he finished.

Faces in the room contorted in confusion — Germany's face held the most confusion, and he did a double-take.

"Uh, dude," America interjected, "that guy is Germany, not Holy whatever."

"... Que?" — Now it was Spain's turn to look utterly confused.

"You mentioned that there were no butterflies in the room, right?"

Norway interjected this question with the slightest hint of curiosity.

"Si." Spain blinked, releasing America's hand from his vice-like grip. "I did." His eyes narrowed slightly at Norway, as he recognized the Norwegian as one of his assailants. "Why?"

"I placed a dispellment spell on the doorway to prevent the creatures from entering the room, and I'm sure that I haven't mentioned that...You can see the magical cr—the butterflies then?"

"Si… Can't everyone?"

"You can see the butterflies too?!" England reiterated loudly in disbelief despite himself.

Spain's gaze shifted past America and to England. His eyes widened, before they sparkled with something dangerous

"... Dios mio—Inglaterra is that you?!"

"Oh no…" France muttered under his breath suddenly, earning looks of confusion from the younger countries, as well as several of the Asian ones — namely Germany, America, Canada, South Korea, and China.

"Seeing your face even in the future," the Spaniard drew under his breath so that only those closest to him could hear him, his bright face taking on a new form of harshness, "makes me want to bash your head in with an axe."

"W-What was that?!" England stuttered, unsure of whether he should be angry or confused.

"Wow," America laughed, "I knew that people hated you, Iggy; but I didn't know that people _hated _you."

"My, my, Spain," France mumbled, walking over to the Spaniard and patting him lightly on the shoulder, "it's a different time, so let's leave the grudges aside, oui?" Although France would have loved to see England beaten up, he knew when to draw the line.

"It appears as if those affected are able to see the creatures for some reason…" Norway mumbled to himself, ignoring the banter.

"Anyways, it'll take us a while to see if we can reverse the effects of whatever this is and find out exactly what we're dealing with." England pronounced loudly, attempting to ignore the mad smile that Spain was currently giving him. "I think for now it would be best if we try to conjure up a spell that will temporarily impede the memory loss effects; Norway?"

"It would take a while, but yes."

"How long do you think it would take to conjure it up?" Germany questioned immediately in an authoritative voice.

"... fourl hours at the most."

"That's too much time." the German frowned, "The others need to be warned of this, and we need to go look for Prussia."

"Are you stupid?" Switzerland grimaced. "If you go out there and get your memories eaten, you'll just cause more trouble for us!"

"Don't go, Germany!" Italy agreed with a strange ferocity. "You'll just get hurt!"

"Wait…" Norway murmured, garnering the attention of everyone within the room. It was strange for many of the gathered countries to hear him speak so much — he always had been the quiet type. "It may be possible for you to go out without getting your memories taken."

"Norway…" England frowned. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

"I noticed earlier that the younger countries have the least amount of magical creatures attempting to leech off of them." Norway explained. "Additionally, it's evident that they are more attracted to magic-oriented countries than non-magic-oriented countries."

Several countries started at this. The Nordics — Denmark and Iceland in particular — and America appeared the most displeased with the given information.

"I will go with him to help negate the attention of the creatures." Norway finished, not a flicker of emotion running across his face.

"Norge!" Denmark cried in protest, the dissonant upbeat easiness that had been present on his face dissipating in an instant.

"I can dispel the creatures, before they can reach me." Norway replied, side-glancing at the Dane for a moment.

"Well, I'm coming too then!" the Dane proclaimed, slapping the Norwegian heartily across the back.

"...but you're old." Norway deadpanned.

"'f Den is usel'ss t, t'en I w'll go." Sweden interjected, shoving Denmark slightly to the side. Denmar

"Sve..." Finland protested with a frown. "I might as well come too then."

"Both of you are too old." Iceland sighed — he had remained strangely quiet during the entire ordeal. "... I'm the youngest, so I'll go instead."

"No." Norway stated simply, not even skipping a beat.

"Bu—

"Well," America boomed in a loud voice, literally shoving the Nordic countries to the side, "this looks like a job for a hero — said hero being the United States of America!" He posed at that moment, hands on hips, and stared off into the distance. "USA. USA. USA." — he chanted such things in a demonic and dissonantly competitive voice.

"No, you git!" England growled. "You'll just get yourself in trouble! I should go instead; I could—

"Someone needs to stay and work on the impediment spell."

Norway said this reminder nonchalantly, although his eyes were sympathetic. England, however, took this sympathy as pity and prepared to protest, but was stopped short by an angry shout:

"Enough!" Germany ordered with a tired expression. "Norway, America, and Sweden. That's it!"

There were numerous murmurs of protest (and loud yipping from America), but Germany's cold glare silenced them all. The German rubbed his temples and then rubbed the back of his neck, before he noticed that Veneziano was looking at him dejectedly.

"I'll be back, Italia." he reassured the Italian.

"You can get lost out there for all I care." muttered Romano under his breath.

"Please don't die, Germany!" came Veneziano's cry.

"I'm not going to die, Italy." Germany frowned. "The worst that could happen is that I lose some of my memories."

"... that's even worse than dying." Italy mumbled under his breath so quietly that only Romano who stood directly beside him could hear him. His eyes brightened, however, and he patted the German heartily on the shoulder, giving the man a thumbs-up. "Well, stay safe! Remember: stranger danger, Germany!"

"Right, right." the German sighed with a shake of his head. He turned towards the members of his self-designated 'search-and-rescue' and sighed even deeper when he saw that they were fooling around immaturely despite the direness of the situation. "Come on. We're wasting time. Let's go."

They departed and were soon destined to encounter Romania, Russia, Belarus, and what they could only call a labyrinth of memories.

* * *

**Status**

Meeting Room: (23) Hungary, Austria, China, South Korea, Spain, England, Denmark, Iceland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Lithuania, Canada, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Romano, Veneziano, France, Turkey, Greece, Japan, China

Hallways: (7) Germany, Norway, America, Netherlands, Belgium, Taiwan, Hong Kong

Unknown: (4) Russia, Belarus, Romania, Prussia

Total: 34 / Confirmed Affected: 2

* * *

**A/N**: Another chapter! Say, would any of you like me to put a specific pairing in this fic (Spamano is like my life and blood btw, but if you're not a fan of it, I won't put to much of it in)? Or see more of a certain character? I mean, all of the characters will have their moment in the spotlight, but still.

Thanks to all those who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed! Please continue to do so!


	5. Memory Labyrinth

**V. Memory of a Labyrinth**

* * *

[_They're trapped._

_It's only common sense to think that they're ours._]

* * *

"So," came the accented and amicable drawl, "I heard from France that you used to be my underling."

"Keywords being 'used to be'."

Romano sat cross-legged and crossed-armed on a chair in a corner of the room, glaring at the meeting room clock that read 12:52. Beside him and leaning casually against the armrest was none other than the amnesiac Spain himself. The Spaniard peered at the Italian in a dissonantly peaceful and curious manner. Said Italian started to regret sending his babbling twin off to tend to the still unconscious Japan.

"That wasn't very nice." Spain pouted, causing Romano to feel uneasy. The line between past!Spain and present!Spain had blurred in that moment.

"So you've said." Romano grumbled back. He increased the intensity of his glare on the clock, adamantly refusing to recognize the Spaniard's presence by his side.

Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw Spain reach for his neck. He started immediately, withdrawing himself into his chair. Despite his erratic movements, Spain had already gotten what he was aiming for; he now sat, chin resting on his propped up hand, staring at Romano's golden cross necklace which he twirled in between his free fingers.

"Say, is this real gold?"

"W-What?" Romano stuttered, flustered. "Fuc—

"Esperar… Are you Catholic?"

"W-Why?" Romano growled, yanking the necklace out of the Spaniard's grip and tucking it back into his blouse. "What the hell does it matter to you? Fuck off!"

"It matters to me," Spain explained slowly, as if he were lecturing a child, "because those are two of the three most important things in this world — those two things being God and gold," he paused, his smile morphing into something cruel: "and the third of the three being _glory_."

"What…" Romano swallowed. "What the hell are you planning?"

Spain simply blinked at the Italian.

"Antonio!" came the French drawl from across the room. "Stop scaring poor little Romano!"

Romano glared at the Frenchman but didn't move to protest.

"Que?" Spain blinked innocently. "I'm not scaring him!" He turned to Romano curiously in such a fashion that made it look like he had been hurt by the Frenchman's words: "I'm not scaring you, am I?"

"W-Well, you _are_ annoying me!" Romano muttered, undeniably surprised at the sudden change in attitude.

"Come over here a bit, mi amice!" France urged. "We can annoy Angleterre together!"

"Oh!" Spain grinned, finally focusing his full attention on France. "If it's to annoy England, it'll be worth the while!"

France waited for the Spaniard to approach him, before he turned and began to walk to what England called 'England's Private Area' of the room. Said 'private area' consisted merely of a wooden table toppled with an assortment of objects that England had retrieved from God knows where, a yellowed parchment of paper, and a single candle. England himself was hovered over this parchment, writing things down on it with red ink and mumbling under his breath.

"So, Inglaterra," Spain cooed in a cheery fashion, walking in front of France and leaning on the edge of the table, "how have these years treated your pirating tendencies?"

England clicked his tongue and sent a meaningful glare at France who shrugged innocently in turn.

"I'm not a pirate anymore, if that's what you're asking." England replied as politely as he could — he wanted to show _this_ Spain exactly how mature he had become over the years. "Now, if you would please leave me, so I can focus on conjuring up the correct seal for this problem."

Spain stared at the British man for a moment, causing the latter to become flustered under his intense gaze. Then, a hearty laugh rang out.

"Dios mio!" Spain laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "You've become so soft, Inglaterra!" He then turned backwards towards France who stood behind him looking at the Spaniard with an unreadable expression. "You too, Francia! What happened?"

"Time, mon ami, time." France replied with a slight smile.

"S-Stop pretending to act mature, you frog!" England shouted accusingly at the Frenchman, breaking the peaceful atmosphere completely. "You're creeping me out!"

"You're the one who's creeping me out!" France shot back crossly. "Avec toute votre magie rampant!"

"Speak English, you git!" England growled. "No one can understand a bloody word you're saying!"

"English is such a horrid language!" France argued. "I'm dirtying my tongue just speaking it!"

"Well," Spain laughed, wiping a tear from his eye, "it seems that some things don't change. You two are still hotheaded as ever."

France and England stared at the Spaniard for a moment, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It was strange. At times, the difference between the Spain of the past and the present was evident; but at other times — times like this — it was a question whether or not the two were different at all.

"Stop laughing…" England muttered crossly. "There's nothing funny about this situation."

"True, true," Spain agreed between chuckles, "but, it still really is funny." He paused suddenly, his gaze flickering in between England France: "But do you know what's really funny?"

"What, mon ami? England's face?"

England scowled.

"No," Spain shook his head with a smile, "I find it funny that you two think this whole situation is a mere coincidence." His gaze darkened, but his smile still remained bright.

"What…?" England frowned. "What are you insinuating?"

"Don't you find it suspicious that this whole meeting of the world was held in a hand-picked building that so happened to be a nest for these so called 'magical creatures'?"

England and France froze, their blood running cold.

"Well," the Spaniard finished with a laugh, his face brightening once more, "_I_ think it's _very_ suspicious."

* * *

It was ten minutes before Spain and Romano conversed that Germany, Norway, Sweden, and America began to cautiously walk down the halls. America headed the group, swinging his arms confidently back and forth; Sweden and Germany trudged in the middle of the group, the former sneaking occasional glances back at Norway who walked calmly at the tail of the group. Their footsteps echoed eerily along the hallway, giving the illusion that they were being followed by something.

"Y'know," America commented, folding his hands behind his head, "I can see why Germany and I are in this whole re-con group — I mean, I actually didn't know you were considered a 'young' country, Germany — and I can see why Norway is too… but," he turned backward towards Sweden, "no offense, dude, but you're practically a grandpa!"

"America," the German sighed, "I chose Sweden because one, it was fair, and two, his skills could prove to be useful. You shouldn't be rude to him like that."

Sweden, expression becoming three times more intimidating, mumbled something indiscernible to the German and the American. Germany got the impression that the man wanted to slit their throats.

"Uhm," Germany frowned, "pardon?"

"He said that he doesn't mind." Norway translated.

"You're pretty cool and chillax, huh?" America blinked at the Swede. Said Swede turned away, his cheeks ever so slightly flushed; and America's grin widened. "You're actually not that intimidating at all in person — I dunno why everyone gets all jumpy when you're around. You're just a big fluffy polar bear, aren't ya'?" He then heartily patted the Swedish man on the shoulder.

"'e's 'lot l'ke D'nm'rk." Sweden turned and murmured to Norway.

"In a good way or a bad way?" the Norwegian questioned, a rare amused expression running across his face.

"'s th're ' g'd w'y?" Sweden questioned back.

"Hey!" America pouted, becoming cross. "Stop gossiping about me in Swedenese!"

Sweden's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. His bashfulness was beginning to dissipate.

"We need to focus." Germany cleared his throat loudly. He knew that handling the group would be hard since America was in it, but he never expected Sweden and Norway to be slightly mischievous as well. He marched ahead of the American (who currently had an arm wrapped around the Swedish man's shoulder) and inclined his head backwards toward the Norwegian: "Norway, have you seen any of the butterflies so far?"

The Norwegian silently shook his head.

"Alright then." he sighed. "France mentioned that he last saw Prussia in the Generator Room, so we should head their first. I believe France said that it was somewhere in the basement level and that the stairs leading to it were at the very end of the hallwa—

"SO." America pronounced loudly, obviously not having heard the German speak. "I say we clean up these hallways and find whoever we can, before searching the basement for Prussia. I'm pretty sure that guy can take perfect care of himself — he trained me afterall! We should totes split up to make things go quicker so we can get the hella outa here!"

"America." Germany coughed. "I don't think splitting up is a very good idea."

"Of course it is! It's _my_ idea, so it has to be good! I'm pretty sure that fact is like written in the laws of the universe somewhere or something."

"America…" German sighed for the upteenth time that day — he was beginning to become slightly irritated. "That's—

"There." Norway said suddenly. He came to an abrupt halt and pointed at one of the walls of the hallway — rather at a black door that stood in striking contrast against the painted halls.

It was strange to see such a door there, because they had not seen a single door since departing from the meeting room. In fact, the only doors that appeared to be in that section of that hallway were the meeting room doors and the single black door that stood before them.

"I'm certain that door wasn't there before." Germany muttered under his breath, before he turned towards Norway: "Are there butterflies in that room, or is there a country in there? Can you tell?"

"Romania is in there." Norway replied with a blank expression. "He left his signature magic-mark on the doorway."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" America questioned in an excited fashion — it was evident that his blood was pumping for a fight. "Let's go—

Norway reached out and grabbed the American's wrists, stopping him mid-dash.

"Dangerous." was all he said.

"Well, we should be more inclined to go then," America rationalized, suddenly becoming serious, "if it's dangerous. Who knows what's happening to Romania?"

"..I 'gree." Sweden nodded ever so slightly, his concerned expression coming off as a threatening one.

"See: the big guy agrees with me!" America nodded fiercely, slapping the Swede on the back. "Three votes against two!"

"There's only two of you." Germany pointed out.

"Well, my vote counts for two people!" America explained matter-of-factly. "Duh!"

Norway and Germany didn't look too convinced. America, however, presumed that they were convinced and marched heartily towards the door. He reached for the doorknob, much to the horror of Germany and Norway, and pulled the door open.

The entire world around them twisted and distorted.

* * *

Only minutes earlier, Romania experienced the very same distorted feeling. The walls around him melted, until the only thing he could see was the black doorway. Romania attempted to reach for the doorway but to no avail. The floor beneath him fell away tile-by-tile, plummeting him into black nothingness. Apparently, said nothingness had a bottom because the Romanian hit said bottom _hard_.

His entire body tingled with pain, so he laid there for several moments in what appeared to be deep thought. Finally, he said:

"Hmm… So t_hat's_ what happe—

Suddenly and abruptly, he was pulled up by the scruff and found himself staring at a pair of very angry blue-violet eyes. A knife was then pressed against his throat; and a harsh voice asked:

"Tell me where the hell we are, you creep."

"Bel?" Romania blinked in confusion. "Why are you here?"

"Where is 'here'?" Belarus growled back, pressing the knife deeper against his neck.

"Belarus," came a light voice, "that's enough."

Belarus immediately released her grip on Romania, and he fell to the floor with an ungraceful thud. Picking himself up, he searched the area in an attempt to find the source of the voice. Russia's cheery expression met his gaze.

"Russia?" the Romanian blinked in surprise. "You're here too?"

"Da, it appears so." Russia answered, dusting himself off. "When you touched the doorknob, we were dragged in to wherever this is with you."

"Huh… is that so?" Romania frowned thoughtfully. "Welp, sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"It will all be fine as long as we get out." Russia replied just as thoughtfully.

Romania turned from the two countries then and surveyed the surrounding area with curiosity. The world around him looked as if it belonged in a scrapbook — a potpourri of items.

The floor beneath him looked as if it were an elongated shoji board; in fact, just beyond where he stood, a large pile of shogi pieces swayed in red light. Several pieces from the top of the pile continuously toppled to the ground in slow motion. The red light that bathed them came from an artificial and flat-looking red sun that rose brightly just behind the pieces. Rectangular red rays continuously spun flatly around the sun, appearing and disappearing as they passed through the shoji-board-ground. The sky beyond the sun was pitch-black.

Squinting in that pitch-blackness Romania saw a colorful and strange sight. Floral, paper origami-cranes fluttered in the darkness like live birds. Several of them rested on colorful oil-paper umbrellas that were scattered along the board; others rested on the linings of red-painted shrine-looking structures that jutted haphazardly from the board as well. Romania stuck his hand out in the air, and one of the cranes landed on his extended finger.

"Trippy." Romania commented with a contented expression. "Trippy, but cool."

"We don't want to hear your shitty commentary, creep." Belarus interjected with a glare. "We want your shit-face to get us out of here."

"Hmm," Romania hummed, stroking the head of the paper crane, "I actually don't know how to get us out of here."

"You… what?!" Belarus hissed, tightening her grip on her held dagger.

"That's very problematic." Russia agreed, his voice bordering on annoyance.

"I left a magic-marking on the door that led us to wherever this is, before I fell." Romania said calmly. "So you shouldn't need to worry. England or Norway will see the marking and should find us soon enough."

The reassurance didn't reassure Belarus one bit; and she began counting the number of knives she had on her in her head, so she could estimate how much she could skewer the Romanian. Russia, on the other hand, was visibly at ease.

"So you have no idea where we are?" Russia questioned lightly.

"What I do know is that wherever we are has to do with all of those butterfly-looking things. I think this place is a distortion — a pocket dimension — caused by their high-magical content. " Romania replied, before he added: "Oh, you can't see the butterflies or anything. Only magic-oriented countries ca—OW!"

The crane that Romania had been stroking suddenly slashed at his finger with its deceptively sharp beak. It then fluttered off, leaving a large gash on the Romanian's finger in its wake. A sudden realization hit him in that moment, and he looked upwards towards the sky. A conglomeration of cranes were beginning to circle above their heads; the conglomeration grew larger and larger until it looked as if the entire mass were a swirling tornado.

"Run." Romania whispered quietly, turning his head towards Belarus and Russia; and he did a double-take when he found that they were already running — more like strolling — in the opposite direction. "Wait for me!" he whined, sprinting after them.

"Why do you sound so worried?" Russia questioned amicably, pausing to allow the Romanian to reach his side. He shifted his hand, so that what he held in it became visible to Romania.

Romania stared at the object blankly, before he said: "You've really got to teach me how to sneak things into the World Meeting."

"Nonsense." Russia replied, swinging the object round and round. "I don't sneak it in; I just always have it with me."

"Riiiight." Romania nodded unconvinced. "Anyways, there's way too many of those things to fend off with just your water pipe," he eyed the object with interest, "and Belarus's knives."

"What do you suppose we do then, Romania?" Russia asked in a purely curious tone. "It's not like we can outrun them."

"We could leave that creep behind to buy us some time." Belarus suggested helpfully from the sidelines.

"Uh, I vote no on that idea." Romania chirped cheerily; he turned to the tornado of cranes approaching at a rapid pace. "I can put up a stationary spell that will hold them for about ten minutes so we can try and find away out of here, but I need time to prepare it."

"What? This magic nonsense again?" Belarus hissed.

"We'll buy you time, comrade." Russia agreed, surprising the Belarusian.

And thus the tornado of cranes descended. None of said cranes, however, reached the group of three. The paper beings were stopped short in their attack several feet away from their target. The solid lining of Russia's water pipe and the sharpness of Belarus's knives kept them at bay.

"Wow." Romania murmured in childish awe. "You two are pretty badass, y'know?"

"Shut up and work on that damn spell, before I stab your shitty face off." came Belarus's thanks.

"Right, right." Romania replied in a sing-song voice.

He thus closed his eyes and began muttering in what appeared to be proto-Romanian. The air around him buzzed and crackled, earning looks of surprised from both Russia and Belarus. After a minute of this muttering and buzzing, he fell completely silent. His eyes snapped open, revealing irises that were glowing an intense red — more red than his usually irises.

"Move." he ordered.

Russia and Belarus complied, the former with a look of curiosity and the latter with a look of distrust.

Romania stepped forward, piercing his left thumb — his right hand was already somewhat tarnished with red from his wound from the crane — with his left fang as he did so. A stream of blood dribbled from the gash. Slashing this thumb horizontally in the direction of the storm of cranes, he shouted:

"Lega!"

The blood dribbling from the gash on his thumb rose at the moment and streamed towards the mob of cranes as if it were a ribbon. That red ribbon wound itself around every-single fluttering crane until all were bound in place by the web of red.

"That's disgusting." Belarus grimaced.

"Really?" Romania blinked, lowering his thumb and licking the blood off of it. "I think it looks pretty cool."

"Putting that aside," Russia interjected, poking one of the bound cranes with his pipe, "shouldn't we be looking for an exit now?"

"Do you even know if there's an exit?" Belarus frowned, eyes sharpening threateningly.

"Of course, I know that there's an exit!" Romania scoffed, looking somewhat insulted. "Doors open from both sides — anyways, this distortion can't stretch on forever. We're bound to reach the exit at some point. It'll be like a game: whoever finds the exit first wins!"

"That sounds fun!" Russia replied excitably.

"Brother…" Belarus frowned.

"Well, then," Romania murmured thoughtfully, "we should'n—

"Why?"

"Hm?" Romania blinked, turning towards the two ice siblings. "Did you say something?"

The duo shook their heads.

Strange. Romania found the voice that had spoken oddly familiar. And if said voice didn't belong to the two siblings, then who exactly did it belong too? Romania turned his head as a bright gold hue caught his eye.

"Why are you intruding in _my _place? In _my _memories?"

A silhouette of gold stood before the three countries, its entire being distinctly humanoid but at the same time distinctly not. It stood at the very center of the web of cranes, staring at them with its featureless face.

"Huh?" Romania blinked at it in confusion, utterly taken aback by the sudden and strange turn of events; his eyes then narrowed: "What are you?"

"I'm a country." the thing replied, albeit a little too eagerly. "... Well, I'm almost one."

"You are no country." Russia stated, his cheerful expression all but gone. "Release us at once."

He apparently struck a chord within the creature, because it visible twitched.

"I'll release you then." it said spitefully, reaching outwards towards nothingness.

Much to Romania's surprise, however, golden butterflies appeared from out of thin air and began gathering at the being's outstretched fingertips. The butterflies conglomerated and shifted in shape, morphing into what appeared to be a thin and elongated blade. The being then charged forth.

"Brother!" Belarus shouted warningly.

But the creature's aim was not for Russia. It, in fact, dashed right passed him and right towards Romania. This aggressive action surprised all three of them — they barely had time to react as the edge of the thing's blade reached Romania's neck. Suddenly, however—-

"HERO KICK!" came the battle-cry, as the heel of a foot collided with the creature's head. Said creature went skidding several feet across the ground from the impact. One ecstatic-looking American, hands on hips, stood in the creature's place. "Now _that's_ how we do it in the USA!"

"A-America?" Belarus stuttered, pleasantly surprised.

Russia's eyebrow twitched.

"Russia and Belarus, is that you?" came the German-accented drawl. Running towards the group of four was one serious-looking Germany with one Sweden and one Norway tailing behind him.

"Woah!" Romania broke out into a grin. "You guys came just in the nick of time!"

"Uh-huh." America nodded proudly. "We all went detective-superhero mode and stuff and came to rescue y'all! There's some seriously trippy shit going on in this building, btw. We need to get you back in the meeting room."

"It's warded against the magical creatures." Norway explained. "The creatures are parasites that feed on the memories of others. Japan and Spain have already been affected by them."

"Huh…" Romania muttered.

"'r y'u all 'lr'ght?" Sweden questioned worriedly.

"No damage done." Russia replied cheerily.

"Wait," Romania drew with a frown, turning towards the creature that laid unmoving on the ground. "That thing…"

"We need to capture it." Norway agreed to Romania's unspoken proposition.

A loud cracking sound suddenly echoed throughout the area. It emanated from the web of red that hung to their right. The entirety of the blood-web shook as if a tremor had gone through it.

"Nenocrit!" Romania swore, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Looks like my binding spell is wearing off already, and binding spells don't work twice..."

"If you're saying that _those_ things," Germany frowned, gesturing towards the reverberating cranes, "are going to start moving again, we need to leave immediately."

"The exit is over there." Norway nodded in the direction that they had come from — it was in the direction of the red sun. Sure enough, a black doorway stood stark in contrast against the flat sun.

"I'll go grab the prize!" America proclaimed loudly, hopping over to where the creature lay and picking it up bridal style and then turning on his heels. "Off we go!"

And thus the group of seven trekked towards the doorway. It was only a minute after they began their dash for the door that the cranes were released from the web. They torrented towards the running group at a speed that appeared to be faster than sound. The group of countries was swarmed by the time the door was in their sights.

"Let's go!" Germany shouted loudly. "Run, you idioten!"

They at last reached the doorway, but they did not reach it unharmed. All of them were covered in numerous scratches and cuts. They were countries however, and such marks would heal quickly.

Germany reached for the doorknob first and yanked it open. He stood in place, holding it open for the others who had fallen in pace behind him.

"Hurry!" came his impatient and angry shout.

Romania, Belarus, Russia, Sweden, and Norway ran into the doorway one-by-one. The latter mentioned member of the group, however, lingered by the doorframe and muttered under his breath:

"I put a distortion sealing spell on the door, so when it closes it will remain shut forever. I set it to shut automatically a minute after its opened just in case."

It had been well over forty seconds since the door was opened.

"Hurry, America!" Germany shouted angrily.

6.

However, the American stopped short several feet away from the black door. A bloodthirsty look glinted in his eyes. He dropped the golden being in front of him and began to yank the cranes out of the air with both of his hands.

5.

"Come on, guys, we can take these things!" he shouted enthusiastically.

4.

"America!" Germany urged.

"Let's stay and fight!" America urged back, turning his head back towards the German. That very movement was a mistake.

3.

The golden creature began to shift and awaken, its golden blade reforming in its hand. Without skipping a beat, it lunged for the American. At that very moment, Norway and Germany saw a rush of blue dart in between them.

2.

Sweden was at America's side in an instant, fending off the creature's blade with his bare hand and throwing America into the doorway with his other hand. America's body slammed into Norway and Germany, knocking them all backwards and back into the hallway.

1.

The last thing Norway saw before the door came to a close was the firmness of Sweden's broad back.

* * *

**Status**

Meeting room: (23) Hungary, Austria, China, South Korea, Spain, England, Denmark, Iceland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Lithuania, Canada, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Romano, Veneziano, France, Turkey, Greece, Japan, China

Hallways: (10) Germany, Norway, America, Belarus, Romania, Russia, Netherlands, Belgium, Taiwan, Hong Kong

Unknown: (2) Sweden, Prussia

Total: 34 / Confirmed Affected: 2

* * *

**A/N**: And the chapter comes to a close!

And about the whole pairings thing… I noticed that some of you would prefer this story without any pairings, while others would like to have pairings. I'll write the characters' interactions in such a way that could be interpreted as bromance and romance, so its up to you to decide what their relations are.

For the question about what the Italies will be like if they lose their memories — you'll have to wait and see. No spoilers!

Thanks to all those who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed! Please continue to do so!


	6. Saudade

**VI. Memory of Saudade**

* * *

[_Oh my… More and more sad memories are blooming. It's the perfect time to reap the harvest!_

_Well, I suppose it's a different type of a harvest than the one I've been having in mind. There is more of a feeling of saudade than a feeling of sadness in these blooming memories. Well... this saudade — such longing and melancholy — is said to have more flavor than just regular sadness. It might be interesting to try, but we mustn't do it so quickly… _

_It will make __**him**_ _upset if we do_.]

* * *

The closed black door stood in stark contrast against the painted halls. The group of seven turned six stared at it as if it were fragile and would shatter at any moment.

"I-I swear… I-I didn't know… that he was going to… run at me… I..."

Dissonantly, Norway heard someone let out a breath of disbelief. He saw that same someone rise onto his feet and approach the closed black door. The person wordlessly reached for the doorknob and push the door open. He watched as that person's eyes widen in disbelief — a doll-filled room that was otherwise empty was reflected upon his irises. He watched as that person slowly closed the door only to open it again seconds later; the person looked as if he expected the scenery within the room to change from just opening and closing the door.

"I was just having some fun… I didn't mean to..."

It took several moments for Norway to realize that this person was himself. Fortunately, he had already realized that his current situation was impossible. Sweden had viking-blood running through his veins. The days they spent pillaging villages together with Denmark were proof of that. There was no way that Sweden could just _vanish_. The very idea was preposterous. Sweden was strong — maybe not as strong as Denmark, but he was strong nonetheless. He experienced the Swede's strength himself, having sparred with him in the past many times before.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know!"

Norway closed the door again, taking several steps back before he made another attempt on the door. A firm grip on his wrist stopped him short. His extended fingertips curled several centimeters away from the doorknob.

"Norway…" Germany said slowly, strengthening his grip on the Norwegian's wrist. "I'm sorry, but—

"Kjeft!"

Shut up!

Looking into Norway's stony, cold, glass eyes, Germany could tell that he was no longer dealing with a businessman; he was now dealing with a viking.

"Norway," America tried again, "I didn't know… I…"

Romania watched the scene unfolding before them with unreadable expression that bordered on understanding and pity. Russia watched on with a detached and confused expression. Belarus, on the other hand, had an unmoving frown sketched onto her face.

It was then that the sound of running footsteps echoed throughout the hallway. Norway, Germany, America, Belarus, Russia, and Romania were stationary, so it couldn't have been their footsteps. Perhaps it was the sound of their old footsteps, still echoing throughout the halls despite their previous departure.

Thoughts similar to this ran through Norway's head as the footsteps became louder and louder.

"W-What's going on here?" came a soft voice from down the hall.

Germany turned his head and made out four indistinct figures making their way down the hallway to where they stood. Two men, two women. Two pairs of siblings. One concerned expression, one cheerful expression, one curious expression, one indifferent expression.

"Are you guys causing trouble again?" came a different voice. This voice belonged to a cheery-looking Belgium who had contradictingly placed her hands on her hips in a chastising manner.

Hong Kong fell into place right behind her with his arms swinging loosely at his side and with his curious eyes straying towards Norway's expression. Beside him swayed Taiwan who was picking at the seams of her suit and wearing a worried frown. Standing aloofly at a distance from all three of them stood Netherlands, an indifferent look — as always — lightly pasted onto his face.

No one moved to explain the happenings to the newly arrived group.

Norway yanked himself free of Germany's grip and reached for the doorknob again; but he stopped short as his fingers curled around the circular brass, and he allowed his hand to fall loosely to his side. A moment passed with this picturesque stillness held in place; it was so picturesque that no one dared to move. And then…

Bam!

Norway's iron fist rammed into the center of the black door, effectively splintering the targeted area into the image of a sun.

Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Belgium jumped at the sound of the sudden violence; Netherlands uncrossed his arms, not looking as indifferent anymore.

"The building is dangerous." Norway informed the newly arrived group as he turned towards them without an expression. "We're trapped inside. The Meeting Room is the safest area in this building."

"... what?" Hong Kong blinked plainly, not used to hearing the Norwegian speak.

"You should head back there now." Norway continued, brushing past Germany. "Prussia is the last on—

"Norway." Germany said firmly, reaching out to grab the man's wrist once more. "You should head back with them," he turned his head towards America, "you too, America."

The American did not protest for once, but the Norwegian did:

"You will need someone to dispell the magical creatures."

"Romania can do that." Germany frowned and Romania nodded in turn. "He's a magic-oriented country too… I think you and America should… rest for a while."

Norway's gaze was absolute-zero frigid.

"Come on, come on!" Taiwan cut in awkwardly but cheerfully with a nervous laugh as she waved the newly arrived group along with America and Norway in the direction of the meeting room. "This looks serious, so we might as well get a move on then!"

"But what about Sweden?!" America finally shouted, turning towards the black door. "We have to rescue the dude!"

"Sweden?" Netherlands blinked.

"Yeah!" America nodded fiercely. "He was… I…" He paused, his energetic expression falling short.

"America." Romania spoke suddenly. "I agree with Germany. That's the best option for now."

"Wait? What?" Belgium frowned. "Will someone please explain to me what's going on here?"

"This is getting annoying." Belarus clicked her tongue, before turning towards Russia. "We should ditch these shitheads, brother." She eyed America in a manner that was either sympathetic or distasteful.

"England will explain everything that is going on to you." Germany informed them. "Romania, Belarus, and Russia… would you stay with me a little longer so that I can find mein bruder?"

"Prussia?" Belarus scoffed. "I hate that dick face."

"Prussia is good friend," Russia murmured with a slightly eerie smile, "but we need more explanation too."

"_I'm_ all up for finding Prussia." Romania pipped, completely contrasting the others' opinions.

"Alright. I understand." Germany nodded, turning. "Thank you, Romania. The two of us will search the basement now. The rest of you should head back."

"But…" America protested quietly, before he swallowed his words; he snuck a glance at Norway. "Come on, guys, let's go."

Thus the two groups departed in opposite directions. It was a shame that Norway didn't attempt the door once more. If he did, Romania might have glanced inside and might have realized that one of the many dolls within the room was missing.

* * *

Poland was scrolling through the text messages on France's phone when the clock in the meeting room rung and resonated a single time to indicate that it was now one o'clock. He sighed loudly, as he read the text messages before a particularly interesting one caught his eye.

"Hey, Hey, Liet," Poland called to the Lithuanian who sat beside and who was also handling a phone, "look at this! France was, like, totally sexting somebody before the meeting." He leaned forward, continued to scroll through the particularly naughty text conversation, and cooed: "Omg, so naughty!"

"Poland!" Lithuania chastised, peeking at the screen of France's phone despite himself, before he gestured at the table before them that was piled on with numerous cellphones. "We're supposed to be trying to reach our bosses! France is going to be mad if he finds out that you're looking through his messages!"

"Puh-lease!" Poland waved him off dismissively. "None of these phones can get any reception anyways. Plus, I bet France would _want_ us to see these messages; he's, like, always going on about love and whatnot."

"Poland…" Lithuania sighed.

"Say, Liet," Poland said suddenly, lowering his phone and staring off at nothing in particular, "what do you think happens to the actual country when the representative country loses his or her memory? I mean, we're like directly connected to our people and our land. What do you think, like, is happening outside? It might be like total chaos or something..."

"Poland…" Lithuania murmured, lowering his phone as well and gazing at the Polish man carefully; he mulled over the asked question seriously, attempting to obtain an answer.

"What would happen if a country loses all of his memories? What would happen then?" Poland continued, allowing his gaze to drift towards Lithuania's face. The Polish man did a double take as he looked upon that face. It was a face of utmost seriousness — eyebrows furrowed and straight lips and all. Poland laughed at the sight and poked at the man's said furrowed eyebrows, smoothing out the man's expression altogether. "Liet, you're like way too serious. You're gonna get ugly wrinkles if you keep scowling like that."

"More like a really bad stomach ache…" Lithuania moaned, holding his stomach with a wince.

"You're like way too serious, Liet!"

It was then that the door to the meeting room opened. All heads within the meeting room turned as seven countries entered the room.

"So," England nodded in their direction from his private area of the room, "Germany found you all then."

"Wait a moment…" France frowned, unfolding himself from the sofa where he was lounging with Spain. "Where are Germany, Romania, and Sweden?"

"Germany and Romania are looking for Prussia, or something like that…" Belgium answered with a confused expression. "Sweden is…?"

"Hong Kong! Taiwan!" China cried with joy as he leapt from where he was tending to the unconscious Japan and bounded over to where they stood; he sloppily embraced them. "I was so worried about you, aru!"

"Brother," Hong Kong replied blankly, "you're affection is suffocating me."

"Y-You're embarrassing me, China!" Taiwan replied, attempting to ward off his affections. "Let go of me!" Her eyes then locked on with Japan's unconscious form and her eyes widened. "Japan?" she called, before she turned towards China with a demanding expression: "What's wrong with Japan?"

While all of this was occurring, Belgium and Netherlands were being smothered in the vivid green gaze of one smiling Spaniard. Netherlands effectively glared at the man, while Belgium smiled lightly and waved awkwardly.

"Eyy, Norge!" Denmark called enthusiastically from where he was sitting and talking with the other Nordics and the Baltics. "How did it go—Norge…?" His smile fell from his face.

"Norway?" Finland blinked with worry. "What's wrong?"

To every other country save for the Nordic ones, Norway's expression was his usual stolidness; the Nordics apparently saw something completely different.

Norway approached them slowly, seemingly unaware of the fact that all eyes were on him.

"Norway…" Iceland called slowly, before his eyes widened in sudden realization; he surveyed the group that stood near the doorway, running their faces through his mind; his eyes snapped to Norway's expression. "Sve...Where is he…?"

"Gone." Norway replied simply, walking closer and closer to Denmark until they were only centimeters away from each other.

The room fell into silence.

"Huh?" Finland whispered in confusion, breaking the delicate atmosphere. " Su-san … is gone?"

"Haha, Norge!" Denmark laughed heartily, slapping the Norwegian on the side of his arm. "Quit messing with us, man!"

"He's gone." Norway repeated.

"There's no way!" Denmark continued to laugh. "You're telling me that the guy who crossed an entire frozen sea just to get to me is—-

He was cut off as Norway pressed his head against his shoulder; the Norwegian stated one final last time, his words slightly muffled by the weaving of Denmark's suit:

"He's gone."

* * *

Romania and Germany trudged down the seemingly endless hallway in complete and utter silence. None of them seemed bothered by this weighty silence, however; their minds were too busy whirling away like the cogs of a machine with the recent happenings.

"So," Romania drew after several minutes of walking silence, "what did you think of those doll things in the room?"

"What doll things?" Germany questioned back, eyebrows furrowed not from the question but from simply his own personality.

"The doll things that were in the room that we were just at." Romania replied, before he blanched: "What? Are you telling me you didn't see them?"

"No, I didn't." Germany replied, eyeing the halls for a staircase leading downwards. "Were they important?"

"Weeeeeeell," Romania drew out, peering at the man, "they did look exactly like us — like exact replicas."

"What?" Germany questioned sharply, turning to look at the Romanian.

"Yah, yah," Romania nodded, "it was really interesting actually. The magical creatures probably have something to do with them." He suddenly stopped in place and nodded to his right,"Hey, look, the stairs!"

Sure enough just before them a marble staircase leading downwards unfolded. The metal and swirling railing that lined the stairs was clean and pristine. Only the first seven stairs were visible, the rest of them swallowed up by the darkness of the basement. There was no light switch to dissipate the dark.

"Strange." Germany frowned, turning to look at the the halls that extended beyond them from both left and right. "France said that the stairs were at the end of the hall… We might as well check it out just in case." He moved to touch the railings but was stopped by Romania's voice.

"Wait," the Romanian frowned back, "there are way too many butterflies around here… There's most likely another distortion down there."

"That's troublesome." Germany sighed. "But there's a possibility that my brother will be down there. You can stay up here if you'd li—

"No way!" Romania crowed, smiling so wide that his fangs shone brightly against the light. "Entering another distortion is about exciting as it gets!"

"If you say so…" Germany drew slowly, before he roughly shook his head and extended his hand for the Romanian to shake: "I am grateful for your assistance."

Romania, in turn, glanced at the extended hand with a raised eyebrow and high-fived said hand _hard_. Of course, Germany's hand was as hard as a rock, so Romania ended up recoiling and shaking his hand in pain.

"If we do find ourselves in a distortion though," Romania supplied cheekily as he rubbed his throbbing hand, "it'll be tough for us to find an exit that _leads_ us to the basement."

"I'm still a bit behind on the concept of the distortions." Germany frowned, before he mumbled to himself: "I hope there's a manual somewhere…"

"Come on, come on," Romania waved his worry off cheerfully, "it's no use worrying about impending doom now. Let's go!"

And thus they began to descend the stairs with one feeling cheer and the other feeling as serious as ever. Their footsteps upon the marble staircase resounded loudly against the white-painted walls that caved around them.

"Echo!" Romania called as he felt along the railing.

'Echooo!' came the reply.

"Would you stop that?!" Germany scowled, having nearly tripped down the entire flight of stairs after a near unfortunate slip.

"Fine, fine…. There are sure a lot of butterflies… It's getting kind of hard to dispell them."

"We're almost at the bottom." Germany replied helpfully

And they were; but as they alighted onto the final step, a strange and peculiar thing happened. They felt something brush up against their legs; and not soon after that, the ground fell away beneath their feet. The dark ceiling above them unfolded into a brilliant blue where a single, circular, and glowing orb hovered. The ground which they hit was soft and cold to the touch; it was blinding white in hue.

Germany shot up onto his feet immediately, clicking his tongue in annoyance. His annoyance changed, however, as the scenery registered in his mind. Romania, who was still lying on the white ground, squinted past the artificial sun with a thoughtful expression:

"It's different each time, is it?" he questioned to himself.

"Is this another distortion?" Germany frowned (again), squinting as well. The whiteness of the snow hurt his eyes.

"Yup!" Romania pipped, hopping to his feet.

The crunching of snow broke off any further conversation.

Germany tensed, as did Romania. Their heads turned in the direction of where the sound originated: a snowy hill that rose in the direction of the sun. Down this hill a trio of shadows fell. The owners of these shadows were immersed in deep conversation — or so it appeared. Only one member of this trio was actually talking; the other two were simply more or less listening.

But the trio — despite being part of a distortion — were strikingly familiar (albeit a tad bit younger-looking) to both Germany and Romania. One member of the trio's face in particular rang alarm bells in the observing duo's minds.

"I want you to mobilize your offensive forces, Sve." came the abrasive and loud voice. "Those 'almighty' Teutonic Knights are aiming for Russia too. We need to get ass-kicking and get the most out of it first."

"'ight." came the reply.

"Norge, I need some weapons and supplies for Sve's soldiers." the loud voice continued. "Could you supply them within the month? I know you're magical, spirit fingers are—ow!"

"You're very funny Denmark." came the sarcastic reply.

"What is the meaning of this?" Germany gaped as he watched a very youthful Denmark, a very youthful Norway, and a very youthful Sweden descend the hill. They were draped in what appeared to be heavy animal fur; various weapons were hoisted onto their shoulders. "Sweden he's…!" The German took a step forward.

But, as the trio approached, they brushed right past the German and the Romanian without taking a break from their conversation. Germany blinked in surprise, turning to grab Sweden's shoulder; his hand, however, phased right through the Swedish man's tall form — the Swede was still surprisingly large in height, despite his adolescent-like face.

"What..?" Germany blinked, eyes narrowing.

"As I thought. How troublesome..." Romania sighed with a slight laugh as he watched the trio wander off in the snow. "The distortion that the butterflies create are actually memories. We're in someone's memories."

"What?" Germany repeated, albeit a little bit calmer and a lot more confused.

"I'm going to assume that the distortion we were in before was of Japan's memories." Romania nodded to himself. "That would explain all of the stuff flying….Hmmm-di-hmm..."

"Romania," Germany addressed the man firmly, drawing him away from his faraway thoughts, "_whose_ memories are we in now?"

Another shadow was cast down the hill, this time a singular and smaller one. On the top of the hill stood a man who looked as if he was either an angel descending from heaven or a demon ascending from hell. He had on a white robe-looking drapery, a brilliant and blue cross sewn at the very frontal center of it. A silver blade hung loosely in his drapery-covered hand — it shone brightly in the cold sunlight. The man's skin and hair were just as white — if not whiter — than his robe and the snow itself. If it were not for the fact that his eyes were a glowering red, one could have mistaken him simply as a floating blue cross.

"Prussia?!" Germany whispered under his breath, a look of suspicion arising on his face.

Much to both Romania's and Germany's surprise, the Prussian responded with a tilt of the head and a slight amused smile:

"Hm? What are you doing here so early?"

* * *

**Status**

Meeting Room: (30) Hungary, Austria, China, South Korea, Spain, England, Denmark, Iceland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Lithuania, Canada, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Romano, Veneziano, France, Turkey, Greece, Japan, China, Norway, America, Belarus, Russia, Netherlands, Belgium, Taiwan, Hong Kong

Unknown: (4) Sweden, Prussia, Germany, Romania

Total: 34 / Confirmed Affected: 2

* * *

**A/N:** And thus the cogwheels of the plot really begin to turn... I apologize for the late-ish update. Updates are actually going to be a bit late-ish from now on as well, because I'm taking a Beauty School thing next week so that I can work as a nail technician while I'm in college. v.v /sigh.

Thanks to all those who read, favorited, followed, and reviewed! Please continue to do so . Reviews make me happy! /nodnod.


	7. Brothers

**VII. Memory of Brothers**

* * *

["_Oh my… what a despicable lie."_

_Alright. I'll admit it now. It wasn't a mere coincidence — well, it was, but at the same exact time it wasn't. It is in our nature, but at the very same time it's not — the whole situation is sort of like that. A contradiction._

_Truthfully, we were simply doing all of this for ourselves (it's our instinct) and also for— _

_For creating a 'perfect world' for—_

… _Well, that's enough truth for today. People like lies after all. Lies make people happy._]

* * *

"Bruder!" Germany snapped angrily. "We've been looking everywhere for you! What in gott's name have you been doing?"

The Prussian allowed his silver blade to fall softly on the snowy ground and descended the hill with quick hops. He descended with a smile and said with a laugh:

"Calm down, calm down! I've just been trying to get my things together. I wasn't expecting you to visit so soon… Besides, you can't rush awesome!"

Germany stared in utter confusion at his brother. His brother's scarlet eyes were unnaturally sparkling in the sunlight, and his smile appeared too artificial. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shook him hard in hopes of somehow shaking off all of the fakeness:

"Stop messing around, Prussia!" he growled. "This is serious! We need to get out of here now! There's something goin—

"OH!" Prussia exclaimed suddenly, shaking the German off and slamming his fist into his palm — he had apparently realized something; he laughed: "I get it. I get it. You're not used to this scenery and attire, right? You didn't see Prussia much dressed like this, right? Yeesh, you're so un-awesomely picky… Anyways, you should've said something sooner! I'll change it for you!"

"What?" Germany recoiled in surprise, his anger dissipating into utter confusion. His confusion was further increased as Prussia's attire began to shimmer a dazzling, golden hue. It was so dazzling that the German had to look away; when his gaze returned to the Prussian's form, it was met with a completely different sight.

Unfurling in the bitter wind was the tail of an otherwise stiff blue tailcoat. The coat's innards were a scarlet red; and the entirety of the coat was lined with gold weaving. Gold medallions and trinkets that were sewn onto a draped and white sash snapped and clacked against the equally white cravat that was barely covered by the tailcoat. Prussia wore all of this attire in a manner of brute elegance.

"What the hell?" was Germany's only response.

"Oh, right, right," Prussia laughed his signature laugh, waving the man off before snapping his fingers, "this scenery's gotta go too!"

And as the snapping of his fingers resounded against the frozen wasteland, the said wasteland melted away like heated gold. What replaced the gold when it all melted away was not the frozen wasteland.

In the place of the blue sky and the bright sun was an ornate and large chandelier that hung from a gothic-looking ceiling via a bronze chain. Intricate arches and carvings swung this way and that, reaching downwards all around and forming a rectangular room. Beneath the German's feet — instead of a snowy ground — were black-and-white checkered tiles that appeared to be cut from marble. Replacing the emptiness of the tundra were men and women who wore tailored suits and formal ballgowns respectively. They stood around, chatting amicably with one another. Germany and 'Prussia' stood at the center of this serenity.

Germany took a step back, his head swiveling wildly around and his eyes taking in all of the warm scenery. He felt Prussia's gaze prickling his skin, so he turned towards him with a hard gaze:

"Who are you?" he asked sternly.

Prussia was his brother — the man before him was not. It was clear to him that the man was not his brother the moment he had laid eyes on him — but Germany just wanted to make sure of it. Careful exactness was key afterall. Said man looked undeniably hurt by the asked question, going as far as to recoil several steps backwards.

"What do you mean?" the man laughed, slapping himself on the chest. "I'm Prussia! I thought I put up a good enough act and everything for you—I," he paused, seeming to truly study Germany's demeanor; when he was finished with his studying, his eyebrows narrowed: "Wait… you're not _him_! You're an imposter!"

Germany blanched, before he shouted back in an irritated tone: "_You're_ the imposter! Now tell me where my brother is!"

The amicable chatting crowd around them fell silent as quickly as a rock falling to the ground. The crowd's gaze shifted and turned in unison, their final empty gazes coming to rest on Germany's form. The German tensed at the sudden turn of events.

"As if the awesome me would ever give away important information!" the man shouted loudly. "Only total losers would do that, and I am therefore not a loser — unlike that stupid aristocrat!"

It was then that the German saw the Prussian extend his hand out in a familiar fashion; there was a familiar golden shimmer in the Prussian's palms — the shimmer gathered there, compacting together until the outline of a saber was formed. The gold shattered, revealing a deadly blade.

"You better prepare yourself…" the Prussian drew with a haughty smirk, "cause you're gon—

There was a sudden. high-pitched wail in the air. A glistening sliver of pointed red hurtled past Germany. It's destination was obviously the sword-wielding man. The hand which held the the said sword was there one moment (right before the red sliver hurtled through) and gone the next. The body part flopped (with a strange and hollow sound) to the ground several feet away.

…

The moment Romania came to identify the figure upon the snowy hill as Prussia, he immediately came to the realization that said figure was not Prussia at all. Such a conclusion came to the Romanian for three different reasons:

One — there were a plethora of butterflies fluttering all around the Prussian's body — but they weren't actually moving to touch the Prussian.

Two — the not-Prussia who had descended the hill had an aura that felt exactly like the aura of the creature that attacked them in the last distortion.

Three — when not-Prussia came to greet Germany, his artificialness was all too clear.

Something about this not-Prussia disturbed Romania however. The not-Prussia's personality was nearly perfectly synchronized with the personality of the actual Prussia. With this information Romania gathered from observing Germany and Prussia's conversation, a theory was gained. This theory would, however, require an experimental test.

Romania thought of these things with a bit of excitement hammering in his chest. The day was giving him another opportunity to use offensive magic. Now, he wasn't one for violence, but he was one for eccentricities; and to him, offensive magic was the epitome of eccentricity.

So, like before (when he had been dealing with the paper cranes in the previous distortion) , when not-Prussia was distracted and showing off to Germany — an attribute that the actual Prussia had — Romania closed his eyes and began to mutter quietly in proto-Romanian. When he opened his eyes, he found that the snowy scenery around him had changed drastically. The gothic ballroom — he had to admit — was quite satisfying to his personal tastes. Thinking along such lines, he sliced his thumb with his fang, watching as a line of a blood trickled out.

"You better prepare yourself…." the not-Prussia drew with a haughty smirk, flourishing his newly created sword, "cause you're gon—

"Seceră!" Romania shouted, thrusting his thumb outwards towards the not-Prussia. His blood obeyed the Romanian command — it streamed from his finger, solidifying itself into a sickle-like form, and hurtled at the not-Prussian's hand. Said hand was sliced cleanly from the not-Prussian's arm.

Germany immediately whipped his head around and locked eyes with Romania. There was a somewhat approving look upon his face.

"And you're welcome!" Romania crowed, pushing past the glaring crowd and tilting an invisible hat in Germany's direction.

"Oi!" the not-Prussia yelped, holding his stubby arm (that wasn't actually bleeding oddly enough) with a look of indignation. "I wasn't ready! That wasn't awesome at all!" He shook his head, a look of embarrassment crossing his face: "I mean—- kesesese! I _meant_ for you to take off my hand! It wouldn't be a fair fight otherwise!" His expression changed then into one of slight disgust and contempt.

"Watch." Romania said quietly to the German as he stepped into place beside him.

Strings of gold suddenly emerged from both the dismembered hand and the stub of the arm of the not-Prussian. The golden strings of both limbs darted towards each other, meeting the other at some sort of midway point. The strings connected to each other and the hand was reeled in by the strings back towards the stubby arm. In less than a second, Romania and Germany witnessed the not-Prussian's sliced off hand easily reattach itself to his arm.

"Now," Romania murmured, his worn smile becoming somewhat troubled, "I know we heal fast, but we definitely don't heal like t_hat_."

It was as if a dollmaker had simply sewn together two plastic body parts of a humanoid product. The very thought of this made Germany's eyes widen. A sudden and recent memory hit him: when the not-Prussian's hand had hit the ground, it landed in such a way that Germany was able to view the wound's clean cut — but there was no blood, tissue, or bone marrow. The hand had been utterly hollow. The artificialness of this not-Prussia was beginning to have a reason for being.

"The doll room you mentioned earlier…" Germany drew slowly, eyes narrowing and sharpening.

"It looks like we've just entered a twisted version of Toy Story, doesn't it?"

"Come on. Enough of your stupid talking!" the not-Prussian grinned, the saber from the ground reforming into his hand. "Intruders need to be punished!" He stood there, twisting the blade of the weapon dizzyingly in his hand; in the next moment, however, he was gone.

A woosh of blue and red fluttered directly to Germany's right. A shine of silver glinted in the next moment and that shining silver hurtled right towards the base of the German's neck.

"Woah, woah! Don't get yourself decapitated!"

Romania said this as he reached for the back of Germany's collar. He pulled the German backwards just as the blade of the saber descended. He was a tad bit too late however; and the blade nicked the German slightly on his arm. Despite the wound, both countries were safe… or so Romania thought.

The Romanian hadn't expected the not-Prussian to skillfully stop his blade mid-swipe and bring it back again — this time aiming for the Romanian's own head. Now it was Germany's time to save the Romanian; and he shoved the Romanian down onto all fours with his free hand.

"You should take your own advice." Germany snapped back irritably.

The not-Prussian — once again — stopped his blade mid-swoop and changed its course, thrusting forwards and slicing upwards at the German. This caused Germany to do an odd backflip across Romania's back, using the said back as a support.

"I don't know what's worse!" Romania laughed despite himself. "Getting crushed by you or sliced up by hi—

The blade stopped mid-course once more and hurtled right towards Romania's smiling expression. It's lacerating force was stopped by a firm and gloved hand that wrapped around its metal body.

"You're almost as good as my bruder with that sword — almost." Germany said, as he forcefully held the blade stationary; he gazed into the not-Prussia's scarlet eyes, his own eyes taking on a harsh light: "Now tell me where my bruder is."

"Your 'bruder'?" the not-Prussia scoffed, continuously pushing the blade towards the German. "If you're talking about Prussia, he's standing right in front of you. What are you — blind or something?"

"Enough of this nonsense!" Germany growled. "Tell me where he is now!" The blade was beginning to crack beneath his fingers.

"If you're talking about that loser who used to be Prussia," the not-Prussia said smirking, "he's in this room somewhere. That's the only hint I'll give yo—

"He's in the chandelier, isn't he?" Romania deadpanned, looking up from his prostrate position at the ornament that hung overhead.

There was silence.

"I-I what? Of course not!" the not-Prussian stuttered indignantly. "Only an idiot would think of that not-awesome hiding spot!"

"Really?" Romania continued looking unconvinced. "So that's not his hand I see hanging down from there?"

"O-Of course not!" not-Prussia growled back angrily. "Hey, stop looking up there! You're supposed to be focusing on me!"

Germany turned his head upwards the chandelier hanging above his head and came to realize that said chandelier was not in fact a chandelier at all. It was a webbing of yellow and glowing gold that formed its shape around a humanoid body. The body was barely visible.

"Bruder!" Germany shouted. It was evident that the Prussia who was encased in the 'chandelier' was unconscious. "Release him at once!"

The not-Prussia sighed loudly and suddenly; and his mischievous smirk all but disappeared. Everything that made him remotely Prussia-like dissipated completely. Releasing his grip on the saber, the not-Prussia took a step backwards, pushing back on the crowd behind him.

"What a pain." the not-Prussia mumbled, holding his head. He looked up at the chandelier. "That guy's memories are making me irrational."

"Memories?" Romania murmured, eyes narrowed; his eyes then widened: "That would mean that you're…"

The not-Prussian smiled an un-Prussian like smile:

"Well, I've eaten most of my meal. I'll save the leftovers for later."

Then his entire form crumbled away — no, it didn't crumble away. It broke into pieces and _fluttered_ away. Starting from his head, his entire body began to visible crack. These cracks branched off and came together again, forming butterfly-like shapes. These shapes came to life in dapples of gold and fluttered off one-by-one until the not-Prussia disappeared completely. The butterflies that had once made up his form flew up and away into the darkness.

Romania stared at the spectacle with morbid fascination. He was caught up in the brilliance and was only brought to reality when Germany called his name:

"Romania!" the German snapped in a frustrated tone. "I need you to get Prussia down from there now!"

Romania blinked and shook his head. And he thus found out why Germany was so frustrated. The well-dressed crowd around them was beginning to move. They drew closer and closer to the two countries in a slow but terrifying fashion. Their limbs creaked and shifted in such a way that reminded Romania of an un-oiled door or a doll with unfit joints.

"Right, right, Captain!"

Romania shouted this, extending his hand out towards the red sickle that was embedded in the wall. The sickle flew into his hand and — with his guiding hand — hurtled right up towards the 'chandelier'. It sliced through the chandelier, criss-crossing this way and that all around the unconscious Prussian's form. There was one final snap of the golden substance that kept the Prussian suspended and said Prussian fell right into his brother's awaiting arms.

"We need to find the exit now!" Germany shouted a bit too loudly, as he hoisted Prussia over his shoulders.

Romania immediately grabbed the German's hands and darted in an opening in the crowd. As he ran along this opening, several members of the crowd made a grab for his limbs and hair. They successfully managed to grab several tufts of his hair but nothing any further than that.

Germany, on the other hand, took offensive action against the crowd, successfully knocking several members out as he was dragged along by Romania.

"Let's see, let's see," Romania said aloud as they wove their way through the mass of people, "if I was a butterfly magical creature thing, where would I put the exit to my room?"

Suddenly, however, Romania pulled from his thoughts as Germany began to tug him in a completely different direction. The Romanian found himself began dragged along the singular red carpet that ran across the ballroom. The German then picked up his pace, causing the Romanian to lose contact with the ground. This caused his body to smack left and right at the crowd — which surprisingly caused several members of the crowd to fall unconscious.

Just as the two neared the end of the red carpet, a relieving sight unfolded before them. Right before their eyes at the end of the room was a staircase that led downwards.

"Damn!" Romania shouted as his face was continuously smacked up and down onto the ground. "That's German intuition for you!"

And they dove and plummeted down the stairway just as the crowd was on their heels.

* * *

1:11 the meeting room clock read — not that anyone was paying attention the clock. Their eyes were glued onto the Scandinavian group in which an emotional conversation was unfolding. It was unfolding into a somewhat violent one, but none moved to stop it.

"Norge…" Denmark drew darkly and slowly, his expression unreadable. He took the Norwegian by the shoulders. "What do you mean Sve is gone?!"

The Norwegian remained silent.

"Norge!" Denmark shook Norway's shoulder roughly. "Norge!"

"He is locked away in a distortion that was created by the magical creatures." Norway finally mustered.

"Locked away?" Denmark repeated, his grip loosening. "So he's not dead…?" He laughed: "Of course he's not dead. He's a country for odin's sake!" He shook his head and continued: "Well, if he's locked away somewhere, we just need to break down the door he's locked behind, right?"

"That's not how it works." Norway replied, not even wincing as Denmark's grip tightened so much that his fingernails began to pierce the Norwegian's flesh.

"Hey, Denmark..." Iceland frowned, unfolding his arms and moving slightly towards the two. "That's enough."

"What do you mean that's not how it works?" Denmark growled.

"It is exactly what it sounds like." Norway said back calmly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "The distortion is closed off."

"So he's trapped…?" Denmark questioned one final last time in barely a whisper. His grip tightened; and his eyes flashed with a strange fire: "Wh—

"Enough!" Finland shouted, stepping in between the two and forcefully ripping them apart. "Getting worked up won't help anybody, okay? The important thing is Su-san is still alive and that means that we can still save him!"

"That's not the point!" Denmark shouted angrily, jerking his arm away from the Finnish man's grip. "Sve is—" His words were caught in his throat — the net which kept them there came in the form of Finland's steely gaze. "Fin…"

"There must be a way to crack open… the 'distortion' you said it was?" England interjected after a moment of silence.

"A distortion." Norway replied with a nod.

"Well," France coughed from the sidelines, "the important thing is that hope is not entirely lost! There is still a chance that we might save Mr. Sweden, non?"

"Si, si." Spain cheered, falling into line next to France. "You are all acting so serious it's getting kind of depressing." He added in a quiet whisper: "and absolutely irritating."

The Nordics stared at the surrounding countries in surprise. Their faces became a bit lighter.

"Will someone explain to us what's going on now?" Taiwan questioned indignantly. "Why is Japan unconscious?... And Mr. Sweden — what happened to him? I'm sorry, but I still don't quite understand."

"A full explanation would be nice." Russia interjected with an eerie smile. "It's a nuisance to be left in ignorance."

Loud shouts of agreement followed. These shouts were silenced by England who forcefully slammed the book he had been holding to a close. The noise echoed loudly throughout the room. All eyes were now on England, who looked undeniably flustered at the fact that he was now the center of attention.

"A-Alright. You want an explanation and I've got one for you." England said, shifting his eyes and not meeting an country's gaze. "What I've got are theories and hypotheses that Norway and I concocted. There are magical creatures in the shape of butterflies — only magic-oriented countries or those who have been affected by the creatures can see them — who have a nest within this building. Since it's their nest, finding an exit would be improbable since all exits are sealed. The creatures feed on memories. and Japan and Spain have already been affected by them."

The newly arrived countries glanced at the unconscious Japan and the smiling Spain.

"The way the memories are devoured somehow linked to consciousness and unconsciousness. And then there are the distortions Norway mentioned… I haven't encountered one myself, so it'd be best if Norway explained them… when he is ready."

Denmark blinked and turned his head towards the Norwegian. Said Norwegian would not meet his gaze.

"Look, Norway…" the Danish man mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about hurtin' ya and stuff; I just got really angry and—"

"I understand. You're just an idiot." Norway deadpanned. "And don't ever touch me again."

"Ow!" Denmark whined. "That's mean, Norge!"

Norway acted as if he didn't hear him and moved to explain what little he knew of the distortions to the gathered countries. While all of this was going on, America broke off from the the group and moved to sit on one of the chairs that lined the very back of the room. Once he was seated, he clasped his hands together and rested his arms on his thighs. He leaned forward, his once energetic eyes dulling out.

"Alfred!" came a sudden shout next to him.

American effectively jumped backwards three feet. He was about to scream bloody murder, but he stopped himself as he realized that it was none other than Canada who had shouted his name. The Canadian, peering at America with worry, sat on one of the lined up seats.

"Woah, bro!" America laughed loudly. "Where the hell did you come from? Are you a ninja like Japan or something?"

"I-I've been sitting here the entire time." Canada muttered sheepishly. "I've been calling you the entire time too, but you didn't notice me until now."

"My bad, bro." America grinned. "But seriously — you've got to work on improving your presence and stuf—

"America." Canada interrupted him (which was a bad sign, since Canada was polite and rarely interrupted anybody when they were speaking). "What's wrong?" His violet eyes were serious but sympathetic.

"What do you mean?" America blinked. "Nothing is wrong — except for the fact that you gave me a heart attack there for a second! Not cool, dude!"

"America." Canada sighed, looking at the American sadly. "You can't fool me…"

America stared at Canada for a moment. Violet clashed against cerulean. Finally, America let out a defeated sigh and stared into his hands:

"It's my fault that Sweden is locked in the distortion."

"What… What do you mean?" Canada managed to ask after a couple of long seconds.

"I wanted to be a hero… I tried to stay in the distortion and fight the enemy...I-I was stupid." America spat. "He was the one who ended up being the hero and saving me. He rushed into the distortion _after_ he got out of it and threw me out of it himself. There wasn't enough time for him to get out — god, Matt! He didn't even hesitate! We barely even knew each other, and he didn't even hesitate!" He buried his face into his hands. "Norway must hate me, and I don't blame him. I hate me too right about now. It's all my fault."

Silence fell. Canada did not move to speak. After several more moments of silence, America lifted his face from his hands. He was immediately met with a slap to the face. He started in surprise, reaching up to his now red cheek.

Canada stood a foot away, his hand still hovering in the air. His normally docile eyes were absolutely burning with fury.

"Don't be an idiot, America! What are you — feeling sorry for yourself? After all of that big talk about being the greatest hero there ever was, you're now feeling sorry for yourself? You're feeling all depressed over something that was an accident? Do you know how pathetic that is? You're always like this! One bad thing happens to you and you think that nothing will ever be alright again! But y'know what? Only seconds later you spring up and act like nothing is wrong! What the hell? You always act like you're the one who has to make everything right alone! But when things go wrong, you act like this! Every. Single. Time. What kind of wishy-washy hero are you supposed to be?! You can't be like this all the time!"

Canada unleashed such words with a quiet fury. It was a strange kind of fury. Those who stood several feet away from the two siblings didn't catch a single word the Canadian said; America, on the other hand, felt the immense heat of Canada's rage. To America, Canada had literally screamed out every single phrase.

"C-Canada…" America blinked in surprise.

"Why are you wasting time feeling sorry for yourself, when you can be standing up, walking, and fixing whatever you think you did wrong?" Canada finished, taking in a deep breath and sagging back into his seat. His anger seemed to dissipate in that moment, and he peered at America with an expression that was a mixture of timidness and fear: "S-Sorry, Alfred, I didn't mean to blow up like that…"

America continued to stare at him, before he shook his head and snapped himself out of his reverie:

"No," America mumbled, "you're right, Mattie." He slapped his cheeks and stared fiercely at nothing in particular and said: "This hero has got stuff to accomplish!"

"That's the spirit, Alfr—-

But the American had already bounded off, leaving Canada to smile meekly to himself. England and France, who both had been watching the two siblings' conversation from their respective areas of the room, also smiled; but then their gazes met and they scowled angrily at each other.

* * *

Romania winced as his back hit the hard floor of the basement. He stared up at the staircase that led upwards just beyond his head; and he sighed a breath of relief.

"Germany, are you still alive?" He called as he brought himself up to a sitting position.

"Ja." came the grunt.

A body shifted into the darkness. Blue eyes pierced through the shadows.

"Say, how did you know the exit was where it as?" Romania questioned as he crawled over to where the German sat. He peered down at Prussia's white head which was resting on Germany's lap. "Are you psychic or something?"

"Prussia always said that he wanted a red carpet to lead from his bedroom door to his bed, so…" Germany muttered, glancing up at the Romanian.

"No way!" Romania laughed loudly. "You guessed?" He glanced up at the air above his head and quickly dispelled some of the butterflies he found fluttering their with a flick of his fingers. His smile dropped then and he peered down at Prussia's sleeping face; he glanced and the German said murmured: "I don't know that much about Prussian history; but if that magical creature had memories of Prussia as a teutonic knight, I honestly don't know how many memories Prussia actually has left - if he even has _any_ left."

"Ja, I figured; but memories or not, he's still my bruder - not that _thing_. " Germany grunted as he came to a stand, gently pulling Prussia over his shoulder. "We should get back."

They ascended the stairs.

* * *

**Status**

Meeting Room: (30) Hungary, Austria, China, South Korea, Spain, England, Denmark, Iceland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Lithuania, Canada, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Romano, Veneziano, France, Turkey, Greece, Japan, China, Norway, America, Belarus, Russia, Netherlands, Belgium, Taiwan, Hong Kong

Hallway: (3) Prussia, Germany, Romania

Unknown: (1) Sweden

Total: 34 / Confirmed Affected: 3

* * *

**A/N: **Duhn, duhn, duhn.

Sorry for the late-ish update again. It took a while to pump out this chapter honestly. On a lighter note, my nail school thing doesn't actually start until next week, so huzzah! I've been re-watching Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood for the fourth time with my free week - so many feelings! On a different note, have any of you heard of the Kagerou Project?

Thank you to all who read, followed, favorited, or reviewed! I appreciate your support!


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